


Fine Print

by prissygirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And isn't real happy about it, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle AU - Freeform, Rumbelle Big Bang, Rumbelle Big Bang 2019, Rumplestiltskin runs the Underworld, Underworld (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prissygirl/pseuds/prissygirl
Summary: A mid-life crisis can be Hell, especially if you’re running the place. When his son falls in love with a mortal, Rumplestiltskin is forced to leave his throne in the Underworld and journey to Storybrooke to break the couple up. Little does he know that this will bring him face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend, the woman he’d run from years ago but had never been able to forget.





	1. Chapter 1

A mid-life crisis can be Hell. Especially if you run the damned place.

Rumplestiltskin drummed his fingers against his throne, waiting for something to happen. So far it had been a slow day. Sure, business was booming as usual – people were always dying to get down here after all – but after a millennia or two, scaring the residents had lost its appeal.

He’d hoped his mother or son might be around to distract him, but neither had been around for several days. His son, Baelfire, popped home now and again, but preferred to be above ground. His mother, Fiona, swanned in and out as she pleased. It was Tuesday, so she was probably off having “tea” with St. Peter again.

The Dark One groaned. He hated that self-righteous prick.

Of course, he hated everyone up in Heaven, which was how he had gotten stuck with this gig in the first place. Though different cultures each had their own name for him – Hades, the Devil, Satan, the Prince of Darkness, the Old One – his favorite title was a combination of the last two, given to him by his son sometime during the Dark Ages.

The “Dark One” had an elegance that appealed to him. Plus, it wasn’t loaded with the mythology that many of the others were.

Hell, even his own name had been borrowed by a children’s fairy tale. He wouldn’t have minded as much if the story hadn’t drawn such attention to his short stature. All the power in the Underworld and he still couldn’t find a way to grow a few more inches.

God had a rotten sense of humor.

In fact, he was pretty sure that was why the Almighty had sentenced him to oversee the daily operations of Hell for the rest of his immortal life. After all, what better way to punish someone than by making them a manager for all of eternity?

It hadn’t felt that way in the beginning, of course. At first, Rumplestiltskin had actually enjoyed it. Not the banishment itself, but the license to do literally whatever the Hell he wanted. He’d reveled in making ironclad deals with desperate souls, giggled as he pitted warring nations against each other, and felt pride as he turned the Underworld into an efficient and profitable operation, pumping souls into his domain like a well-oiled machine.

But after century upon century of murder, wars, and infomercials, being evil had lost its kick. He was sick of his day job.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly a gig one could retire from. Even if Baelfire had shown an interest in the family business, there was no way to pass the title down. The job was a lifelong commitment with a ironclad contract. Penned by God himself, there was no way for Rumplestiltskin to break it and free himself.

Well...technically, there was _one_ thing. An obscure rule buried on page 394 of the contract. But the odds of that happening were impossibly low, so he rarely thought about it. Because if such a thing did happen, he would also lose all his powers and immortality, and be stranded on Earth for the rest of his pitiful mortal life.

With that as his one alternative, even ruling the Underworld in perpetuity seemed enjoyable.

Rumplestiltskin had to face the facts. He was stuck. In Hell. Forever.

His thoughts turned back to his son once more. A second later, Baelfire popped into the throne room, a shot glass in one hand and a disoriented look on his face. His confusion faded after only a moment and he let out a deep sigh.

“Pops, you’ve got to stop summoning me like that.”

Rumplestiltskin spread his arms out in front of him. “It was an accident.” When his son gave him a disbelieving look, he shrugged. “Alright, it’s a recurring accident.”

With a roll of his eyes, Baelfire walked over to the corner of the throne room where a fully-stocked liquor cabinet stood. He set his empty shot glass down on the sideboard next to it and began pouring himself a large brandy. “Thank God, there’s a bar.”

Rumplestiltskin sniffed. “He had nothing to do with it, I assure you.”

Baelfire shot him a glance. “You’re not sulking about your expulsion again, are you?”

“It’s not like I caused _that_ much trouble.” Rumplestiltskin heard his son mutter the words “Here we go again”, but he ignored him and kept talking. “I mean, it’s not my fault a simple bar fight turned into an all-out civil war in Heaven.”

Slamming down his now empty glass onto the bar, Baelfire snorted. “And now Heaven is a completely dry realm and angels have to go to Earth for a simple pint. Sounds like Hell to me.”

They’d been through this argument time and time again over the centuries, but Rumplestiltskin never got tired of it. He knew he was in the right and if Baelfire, or the Big Man Upstairs, couldn’t understand, then he’d just have to keep arguing, wouldn’t he?  

“Maybe I went a bit too far, but who hasn’t?” He raised a finger, ready to make one of his best points. There were many examples throughout history, but their earlier conversation had reminded him of this one specifically. “If you want to talk about getting carried away, I was hardly the one who wiped out humanity with a giant flood.”

“He did save one family.”

Rumplestiltskin barked out a laugh. “Headed by Noah, an infamous drunk. Great choice to restart civilization. And we wonder why there are so many alcoholics in the world.” He gestured at his son’s drink. “Just be grateful Noah stocked up the ark with grain alcohol before the trip, or you’d be drinking lemonade over there.”

“Did someone say lemonade?” asked a feminine voice from the doorway. “I’d love a glass. Provided there’s vodka in it.”

A smile on his lips, Baelfire immediately began mixing a drink as Fiona swept into the room. Her dark hair was free from any gray, matching perfectly with her black sequin gown and the collar of feathers around her neck.  

“How was tea?” Rumplestiltskin asked snidely.

“Lovely as usual,” she replied, taking the drink her grandson offered. “Pete just had the entire welcome area inside the gates painted this really perky coral color and it’s made such a difference.” She glanced around the throne room, her eyes narrowing as she examined the crimson-colored walls. “You know, this place could do with a little updating. It’s looking a bit drab.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I happen to like it this way.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoke. “What we really need is a way to brighten this place up. Maybe pastels? Or perhaps some natural light? That would do wonders for your depression.”

“Mother, you may have forgotten, but we’re thousands of miles underground.”

She shrugged. “Sun lamps? Whatever. Just something to make the place less forbidding.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “People come here because they’ve been sentenced to everlasting damnation. It’s supposed to be depressing.”

“Well, I’m sure Pete would agree with me. He sends his regards by the way.”

Rumplestiltskin was about to say just where the Keeper of the Gates could _put_ his regards when the sounds of frantic running, followed by a loud crash, drew all their attention.

He’d bet all the souls he’d gained this morning that it was Tutankhamun’s vase that had fallen. If he was right, that would make it the fourth relic that his oaf of an assistant had broken in the past century.

“Archie!” he yelled.

The man in question poked his head around the doorframe. His cheeks were almost as red as his hair at the moment, his oval eyeglasses askew on his face. “Sorry, boss!” he squeaked.

Rumplestiltskin rubbed his forehead, feeling the tell-tale signs of a headache beginning to form. If he lived for the rest of eternity– and it was a distinct possibility as he was more likely to die from boredom than old age – he’d never make a deal with a cricket again. The next time a bug wanted to become human, he’d just say no thanks.

“What do you want, Archie?” he asked, not even trying to hide the weariness in his voice. With two drunks and an idiot for company, was it any wonder he was going crazy?

It was almost enough to make him journey to the surface again for a break, but…no. Best not to be tempted. Not after last time.

“Sire, we have an issue. Cerberus has been wandering away from the front gates again, and I’m - well, I’m concerned that some unfortunate souls might sneak out next time he’s off chasing harpies.” Archie pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, his voice shaking nervously. “Without access to the Orbuculum, it’s p-p-practically impossible for me to maintain proper security…”

There were few noises in all existence that annoyed Rumplestiltskin as much as Archie’s whine. It was right between nails on a chalkboard and listening to Nickelback albums.

“Fine, fine,” he said quickly, hoping to shut Archie up if he agreed to whatever harebrained scheme the fool was up to this time. After all, everyone in their charge was already dead - what was the worst that could happen? “Just go take a shift on Soul Patrol, will you?”

For a second, Rumplestiltskin could have sworn the mild-mannered Archie was about to argue. But the moment passed, and the man merely nodded before walking out of the room.

“Soul Patrol”, as Rumple liked to call it, was nothing more than glorified babysitting. In a nearby room was an ancient stone basin filled with water from the River of Lost Souls. While the Orbuculum, a large crystal sphere that he kept in his private study, showed everything outside the borders of his kingdom, the pool showed everything within. It allowed the viewer to monitor, but not affect, the dead as they wandered aimlessly through the Underworld, making it by far the most boring job in his entire kingdom.

For the first time that day, Rumplestiltskin smiled. Perhaps being nasty still had its perks.

* * *

 

Baelfire was bored, but that was hardly new. Being a half mortal with an incredibly long life expectancy had that side effect.

He’d left the throne room after his father started arguing with his grandmother again about her “friendship” with St. Peter. He honestly didn’t know why Rumplestiltskin even bothered about it anymore, but his father seemed to enjoy picking fights when he was in one of his melancholy moods. By Baelfire’s count, this particular bad mood had lasted about three years already, so hopefully he would come out of it sooner or later.

After gazing down at the river for a while, wondering if he knew any of the new arrivals on the ferry, he’d wandered into Rumplestiltskin’s study. His father had amassed quite a collection of books since the beginning of time and he figured he’d wile away a day or two reading, until something more interesting happened.

He was surprised when he found Archie already in the room, gazing transfixed at the surface of the Orbuculum. Instead of the hordes of dead souls entering the Underworld, the crystal orb reflected back the image of a woman with long blonde hair who looked very much alive.

“That doesn’t look like ‘Soul Patrol’ to me,” he said, as he walked towards Archie.

Archie jumped at the sound of his voice. Baelfire paused next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“Whoa there! You have got to stop being so fidgety. I promise I won’t tell pops you were spying on the living during work hours, okay?”

“I uh – thank you?” Archie stammered.

“Don’t mention it. She’s cute.”

Archie’s expression turned puzzled. “Cute? No, that’s not – I wasn’t looking at her because of that!” He turned back towards the crystal ball. “I was checking the border but then - well my mind started to wander a bit. Pondering the questions of moral philosophy and how it informs our work here…”

Archie was still talking, but Baelfire’s attention had wandered to the woman before them. She was running down a city street, chasing someone or something he couldn’t see.

“...and then all of the sudden, she popped up!”

That sparked Baelfire’s attention. The Orbuculum showed what the person using it directed it to. If Archie was right and it had gone rogue for some reason, there must be something very important about the woman it was showing them.

Baelfire looked back at the orb, letting out a chuckle as he saw the woman ram a man almost twice her size against a cop car before cuffing his hands behind his back.

“Besides the Herculean body check, what’s so special about her?” he asked skeptically. The woman was beautiful - gorgeous, in fact - but he’d been around for centuries. Having spent his youth flirting with Cleopatra and Queen Nefertiti and his mid-youth drinking champagne with Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn, it took more than a pretty face to turn his head these days.

Archie answered in a hushed voice, as if he was worried someone else might be eavesdropping. “She is without darkness.”

Baelfire’s mouth fell open. “You mean – ”

“Yes. A mortal without sin.”

Knowing he probably looked like some cartoon character with his mouth hanging open, Baelfire closed it. He took a few moments to reign in his thoughts, but he was already certain of his next question.

“Where is she?”

Once again, Archie’s nerves seemed to kick into overdrive as the man stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. “I uh – don’t think your father would approve of me telling you that. ”

Baelfire gave him his most winsome smile – Audrey herself had said it was his best feature – and threw his arm around Archie’s shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Which is why it’s going to remain our little secret.”

* * *

 

The only information Archie would give him was the woman’s name and her current location. Traveling back to Earth could sometimes be tricky, but it had taken him only a couple hours - and a quick bribe to Anton the Ferryman - before he had arrived in the small port city of Storybrooke, Maine.

He found Emma Swan leaning against a cop car outside the local bank.

She didn’t look like a woman who had much patience for idiots, so he had to make sure his opening line was good.

“Excuse me,” Baelfire said, flashing her his Audrey-approved smile. “Can you tell me the best way to rob this bank?”

Her expression was guarded, and he could tell she was trying to decide if he was crazy or just stupid.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, since you’re a cop, I figured you would know the best way. Also, I couldn’t really think of a decent pick up line, so I thought what the hell – at least I’ll make a memorable first impression.”

“Might I suggest you try using pickup lines that won’t get you thrown in jail?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If I thought for a moment that you were actually a threat, I’d have you in handcuffs before you could finish the punchline.”

“Sounds like a promising start to me.” He held out his hand. “I’m Neal.” When she made no move to shake his hand, he added, “I don’t bite.”

“You also don’t tell the truth,” she replied. “That’s not your name.”

He startled, taken aback. “How’d you know that?”

She shrugged. “Call it a superpower. My bullshit meter is pretty accurate, especially around guys trying to impress me.” Looking down at her watch, she cleared her throat. “Now do you have anything interesting to say or are you just going to continue wasting my time here?”

“My real name is Baelfire.”

She blinked. “Bagel – ”

“No, _Bael_ fire,” he corrected. “Neal is the name I usually give people though.”

She let out a low whistle. “No wonder you lie.”

“Look, it’s obvious I started off on the wrong foot here,” Baelfire said, deciding honesty would get him further than any of the elaborate stories he had made up on the trip there. “And name,” he added belatedly, happy to see her smile at that. “Can I buy you a drink once you get off work? I promise I’m much less of an asshole after the first ten minutes.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Okay,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Baelfire blinked. “You’re done already?” He motioned from the bank to the car. “Aren’t you patrolling or something?”

Emma smiled. “It’s not my car.”

She started walking down the sidewalk, leaving him to follow.

A laugh bubbled out of him and he grinned, hurrying along to catch up with her. He might just be in love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no ill will against London, but figured Rumple needed something to complain about. If you’re British, please don’t kill me.

_ 3 YEARS EARLIER  _

As far as vacation spots went, London left a lot to be desired in Rumplestiltskin’s opinion. He’d disliked the city back in 50 AD when he’d first encountered the tiny Roman port town - then named Londinium - and he disliked it now. The city was crowded, dirty, and noisy - not to mention damp and cold. If he had actually had a forked tail, it would have frozen and fallen off by now. 

But the small, slender hand pulling him through the streets somehow made all his complaints vanish, leaving the city pavement beneath his feet feeling exciting and new. Hell, he felt alive in ways he hadn’t in centuries. He supposed that was one of the consequences of having a soul-sucking career; it was bound to become depressing at some point. On the bright side, at least the souls weren’t his. 

They’d met accidentally, the hotel having accidentally booked their room twice. He’d taken one look at the lovely Belle French, with her soft curves and chestnut curls, and decided he didn’t really mind the idea of sharing a bed. 

Some nobler part of him - perhaps something leftover from his former angelic days - had insisted on letting her have the room and finding accommodations elsewhere. In return, she’d insisted on buying him dinner to pay him back for the inconvenience, and they’d spent the evening eating, laughing and discussing everything from literature to religion. The connection was immediate, almost as if the Fates had brought them together. He’d bought a bottle of wine, she’d bought another, and the night had progressed until both were pleasantly wobbly on their feet and stumbled back to her room in high spirits. 

He hadn’t even needed to find new accommodations, after all. 

She’d told him she didn’t usually do this type of thing and he’d pretended to believe her. After all, he knew what he looked like. A seemingly middle-aged man with brown-turning-to-gray hair that was slightly too long to be fashionable in this day and age. He was well aware he wasn’t the type of man women imagined sweeping them off their feet during their European vacation. 

Then again, this was nothing more than a quick vacation fling, so what did it matter if he wasn’t her dream man? He was content to just enjoy her presence while their time together lasted. The fact that he found himself more and more drawn to her as the days progressed, or that he ended up staying much longer than he had originally planned, were thoughts that he easily brushed aside. 

After all, the only reason he’d come on this vacation in the first place was to escape Archie, who had somehow managed to be even more annoying than usual lately, a feat which Rumplestiltskin would have been impressed with if it hadn’t left him with an almost daily headache. As he had no real wish to see his assistant any time soon, what was the point in hurrying back? 

Like most days, they’d spent today exploring the city. Belle loved hearing all his stories about the old buildings as they passed by, especially when they involved some kind of sordid scandal or hasty cover-up. If she wondered how he knew so many secrets, she didn’t ask and Rumplestiltskin didn’t volunteer how he’d come by the information.

Though if pressed, he could tell a particularly ripping tale about how Big Ben actually got its name, provided no children were present. 

As they walked around a corner, a small antique bookshop came into view. Belle squeezed his hand excitedly, practically bouncing on those ridiculous heels of hers that she’d insisted on wearing around town. He’d had to subtly use his magic to prevent her from spraining her ankle on some of the older cobblestone streets. 

“Nick, can we go in?” she asked, her blue eyes shining with delight. 

He smirked, knowing full well that she’d be visiting that bookstore regardless of his answer. He pitied anyone who got in between Belle and her books. He imagined her stilettos would leave a mark as they trampled over anyone who got in the way. 

“Of course, my dear. I value my life too highly to stop you.” 

She rolled her eyes at him before pulling him along towards the shop. 

As usual, Belle made her way to the classics session first, as if she had an instinct for where the dustiest books lived. 

Rumplestiltskin scanned the titles in front of him, knowing most of them by heart and the true stories behind them even better. 

His gaze fell on an old copy of A Christmas Carol and he smiled, picking it up. One would think Dickens would have learned his lesson after writing it. He flipped through it lazily before putting it back on the shelf, shaking his head and muttering to himself grumpily. 

If there was one group of people he couldn’t stand, it was writers. There was a separate circle of Hell reserved just for them and he made it his personal policy never to visit, lest they set upon him and try to write his biography. 

He shuddered. He’d lived it once; he didn’t need to read it in horrifying detail once again. 

Belle had picked up a book and was leafing through it interestedly. 

“Anything good?” he asked, peering over her shoulder. 

“It’s the Divine Comedy by Dante - hey!” she sputtered as he grabbed the book from her, slamming it back onto the shelf with a scowl. “Why’d you do that?” 

“Trust me, you’re better off not reading a single word written in that. The man was a complete charlatan! Also, a lousy singer after a few drinks.” 

Belle just stared at him, her eyebrows raised. 

“Or uh, so I’ve heard,” he finished lamely. 

“Uh-huh. Are there any other authors here I should avoid?” she asked teasingly. 

“Oh, I could tell you a story or two about most of them.” He stroked the spine of a copy of Faust fondly. 

“As long as you don’t say anything terrible about Jane Austen, we’ll be fine.” 

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Actually, now that you mention it - ”

She pointed a long finger at him. “I will never forgive you.” 

He chuckled, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. “I think we both know from experience that that’s not true.” 

Belle snuggled close to him. “In my defense, you’re hard to stay mad at.” 

His gaze flickered upward. “Try telling some people that,” he mumbled. 

Eventually she pulled out of his arms, the pull of the books too strong. They spent another hour wandering amongst the shelves, in no particular hurry. 

When Belle’s stomach growled for the second time in five minutes, Rumplestiltskin finally managed to drag her towards the exit, stopping only so she could pay for the two books she had picked out. He was proud of her; in the bookshop they had visited earlier in the week, she had walked out with four. Her willpower was clearly improving. 

Either that or there was no more space in her suitcase. 

Still, he couldn’t help but tease her about her vice.

She stuck her tongue out at him in response. “It’s my vacation. I’m allowed to indulge myself.” 

As much as Rumplestiltskin appreciated a good book, it wasn’t exactly his idea of an extravagant indulgence. Then again, he was hardly an expert on what made a good vacation these days. 

“I suppose I can’t judge. This is the first vacation I’ve taken in years.”

Actually, it was the first in decades, but he didn’t want Belle to think he was a complete loser. He’d been up to the surface to make deals over the years, but had always returned immediately after. Archie had been encouraging him to take a sabbatical for awhile, but it had only been with this latest attempt that Rumplestiltskin had given in, desperate for some peace and quiet. 

Yet even from afar, Archie had managed to cause him grief. After all, only his buffoon of an assistant would suggest visiting London during the rainiest, most miserable time of the year. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think his underling was trying to get a vacation from him! 

But despite everything, London had turned out to be wonderful, which had absolutely nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with meeting the beautiful woman walking beside him. 

She nodded. “This is my first vacation since starting my job. I’ve had to save up for quite a while to do it.” 

“Librarian salaries not bringing home the big bucks these days?” 

Her lips twisted into a grimace. “It’s like they think I can live off the books.” 

He raised his eyebrow at her knowingly and she gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. 

“You know what I mean! While there are several books I’d love to live in, they unfortunately aren’t roomy enough.” She sighed. “This vacation is actually more expensive than I had planned. I might have to get a roommate when I go back home.” She shook the thought off. “Still, nothing I can do about that now.” 

The future was something Rumplestiltskin was also trying not to think about. He quickly changed the conversation to where they might eat. 

“Oh, my therapist told me about a great little place nearby,” Belle said, looking at the map on her phone. She glanced up suddenly, looking self-conscious. “I um, I go to therapy a couple times a month,” she clarified, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously as she waited for his reaction. 

Rumplestiltskin gave her a reassuring smile. “Everybody needs someone to talk to from time to time. Life gets rather lonely without it.” Suddenly realizing how true the words were for himself, he looked down at the pavement, feeling self-conscious himself all of the sudden. “But I suppose that’s why people are drawn to religion. It’s nice to know that someone is listening.” 

She looked at him curiously. They had discussed religion at length and he knew that she assumed he was an atheist, which he found quite ironic and humorous. 

“Do you think there’s someone listening?” she asked, glancing briefly at the sky. 

He nodded, remembering something Baelfire had mentioned from his last visit to Heaven. “I believe so. Unless he’s texting. Or playing Sims. The angels keep reminding him he can just play with the real thing, but God seems to like the versions that don’t talk back.”

Belle giggled, her laughter a melodious sound that warmed him all over. He was going to miss hearing it. 

The thought hit him hard and he almost staggered mid-step. He’d been so successful at avoiding thoughts of leaving that this one had whacked him right up the side of the head. 

But it was true. He knew Belle’s days in London were coming to a close. She would go back to Storybrooke and he would return home as well. Like all flings, this one had to end. 

Despite knowing that, the thought of leaving her pained him, even though he knew it was for the best. Belle still didn’t know who he really was and he rather doubted that the truth would go over very well. She was an exceedingly kind and forgiving individual - perhaps to a fault - but even she would draw the line at dating the actual Devil. 

Even if she would - he shook his head at the ridiculous thought - it would never work out. They were too different. His heart was too dark to be worthy of someone as bright and full of life as her. His darkness would inevitably smother her light, leaving her as sad and bitter as himself. 

For Belle’s own sake, he had to leave. It was the right thing to do. 

Sure, he would miss her for a time. But he had survived worse losses in his long life. He could weather this as well. He would move on, just as Belle would, and they’d both be better off for doing so. 

He reached for her hand, twining his fingers around hers. If he was going to leave, he wanted to make every second last.  

They turned another corner and saw the little restaurant, delicious smells already making their way towards them. Next door, of course, was another bookstore. 

He groaned, already knowing he wouldn’t be getting dinner any time soon. He looked down at Belle who smiled back up at him, her face alight with joy.

Rumplestiltskin smiled back automatically, his heart beating just a little faster for some reason. 

“Please?” she asked.

He nodded, unable to deny her anything that caused her such joy. The pit in his stomach, which he had been successfully ignoring over the past week, grew a little larger. 

Her hand slipped from his as she hurried into the bookshop, Rumplestiltskin trailing behind her. 

Tonight, he decided. He would have to leave tonight. 


	3. Chapter 3

_CURRENT DAY_

“Alright, you’ll never get this one, smartass. The clue is ‘Rome of Hungary’.”

“Easy. That’s obviously Eger.”

Belle glanced up from her book to see Emma glaring at Neal over the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. It was a lazy Sunday morning and the three of them were lounging about Emma and Belle’s apartment in their pajamas. Neal and Emma were on the sofa doing the newspaper’s crossword puzzle together, a habit they had developed over the three months they had been dating, while Belle was curled up in her favorite armchair, reading Good Omens for the tenth time.

“Obviously? No one knows that.” Emma turned to Belle. “Did you know that?”

Belle bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the indignation on Emma’s face. “Nope, can’t say I do.”

Emma threw her hands up. “See! Even Belle doesn’t know and she has a master’s degree in Library Science!”

Neal shrugged, looking a bit self-conscious all of the sudden. “I’ve been around.”

Emma grumbled half-heartedly at that, but filled in the answer anyway. They began discussing the next clue, and Belle turned back to her book, shaking her head at the pair. Neal was a good fit for Emma, even if he drove her roommate crazy half the time.

To her embarrassment, Belle had initially disliked Neal. She usually got along with most people, but something about him had set her on edge and it had taken a while for her to warm up to him. Even now, there was definitely something strange about him, but Belle still couldn’t put her finger on it.

Actually, if she was honest, there were a lot of strange things about Neal. His sudden appearance in town, his obscure references that neither Belle nor Emma ever understood, and the fact that he had somehow read more books than Belle - not that she was jealous of that fact, of course - were just a few of them.

But there was something else, just hovering at the back of her memory. She was sure she’d figure it out eventually. It was almost like he reminded her of someone, but Neal was so different from anyone she’d ever met in Storybrooke that the chances were close to zero.

Not that there were many people to meet in Storybrooke in the first place. She’d lived here ten years now and could swear she knew everyone from the waitress at the diner down the street to the local therapist **.** That was one of the main reasons she had saved up all her vacation time and taken a trip to London three years ago, needing to experience new people and places. Unfortunately, the result of that trip was that she ended up spending even more time with the town’s therapist, who had - ironically - encouraged her to go on the trip in the first place.

But she didn’t want to think about that. And she definitely didn’t want to think about _Him_.

She didn’t even call him by name in her thoughts; it was much safer just to refer to him as “Him” and be done with it. He didn’t deserve a name, even if she had screamed herself hoarse crying his name over and over again when they had made love.

Wait, what had she been thinking about? Oh yes, Neal. That was a much safer topic.

She supposed it wasn’t just Neal’s eccentricities that had made her wary. Their first meeting had also started them off on the wrong foot. Belle had already been in bed when Emma and Neal had stumbled home from the bar the night they had first met. The loud and extremely vocal sex that had followed for the next hour, causing Emma’s bed to slam into the wall that separated her room from Belle’s, had both prevented Belle from getting any sleep and had made her feel even worse than usual about being single.

She hadn’t had sex that good in three years. She could also blame that on He-Who-She-Would-Not-Name.

Regardless, Belle really was glad for Emma and Neal. Sure, it had been a bit of a whirlwind romance - which in Belle’s limited experience hadn’t turned out so well - but Emma seemed genuinely happy. She hadn’t had the easiest life and didn’t always trust people easily.

Not that it was any surprise considering her choice of career. Bail bond agents didn’t tend to meet the most upstanding citizens in their line of work.

But that had changed with Neal. Ultimately, that had been what had given Belle her change of heart regarding him. If someone could make her usually reserved roommate laugh as easily as he did, then Belle would support their relationship wholeheartedly.

She just wished she could figure out why they couldn’t say the word “bagel” without a straight face.

“Okay, what about this one?” Emma said, tapping her pen against the newspaper. “Five letter word for ‘14th-century Florentine exile’.”

“That would be Dante,” Neal said, a slight grumble in his voice as he flopped back on the couch. “The biggest blabbermouth I’ve ever met. We had to do huge renovations after he spoiled everything.”

Belle blinked at Neal. She liked him, but boy was he weird. Maybe she should book him an appointment with her therapist. Emma saw him as well so maybe they could get Neal a discount.

“You certainly have a lot of feelings about Dante,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who disliked him that much.”

He grinned. “Well, you’d love my dad then.”

“I’m sure she would,” Emma said, patting Neal’s hand distractedly. “Now, tell me a four letter word for ‘foreshadowing’.”

Something was tugging at the back of Belle’s memory again. Hadn’t someone else once complained to her about Dante?

The memory came back to her suddenly and Belle bit back a groan. Of course, _He_ would complain about something like that. That pretentious, lying, no good, son of an undertaker.

Of course, she didn’t actually know if his father was an undertaker. It just seemed appropriate that if he was one, his father would be one too. Then again, his occupation could have been a lie as well. Apart from his name, what had he really told her in their three weeks together?

She suddenly questioned her reasoning around not using his name. It had somehow felt instinctual, a way to stick it to the man who had broken her heart. But what did it matter whether she thought it or not? He wasn’t Beetlejuice or Bloody Mary, for crying out loud. It’s not like she could summon him just by thinking his name.

“ _Nick, Nick, Nick_ ” her traitorous brain chanted.

Emma pointed to another clue. “Do you think this could be - ”

A knock came at the door, making them all jump. 

Neal narrowed his eyes at the door for a moment before letting out a slow groan. “Speak of the Devil,” he mumbled.

Wondering who could be stopping by this early in the morning, Belle got up from her chair and walked over to the door. Most likely, it was just their mailman with a package. She pulled the door open, her breath catching in her throat as she saw who stood on the other side.

It definitely wasn’t the mailman.

Nick stared back at her, equal amounts of shock written over his face. “Belle?”

Unable to reply, she did the only thing she could think of. She slammed the door in his face.

Emma stood up from the couch in alarm. “What the hell, Belle?”

Next to her, Neal sighed. “You have no idea.” He stood up, his expression glum. “We’ll have to let him in. Otherwise, he’ll just stand there for a millennia. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried it.”

“I am not letting that man in our apartment!” Belle shouted, pointing at the door. “He can stay out there and rot for all I care.”

“Umm,” Neal scratched his head in confusion. “I know my dad doesn’t give the best first impression, but that seems a bit excessive. Even for him.”

Belle’s mouth grew dry. Nick was Neal’s father? How was that even possible?

“Nick is your dad?” she asked, hoping she had somehow misunderstood.

Emma stared at Neal. “Your dad’s name is Nick? I thought you said he had a weird name like you.”

Neal shrugged. “He has a lot of names.”

“I can think of a few right off the top of my head,” Belle mumbled. Like liar, womanizer, really good kisser -

“Just in case anyone’s interested in what I think,” came a dry voice from the other side of the door. “This matter might be resolved quicker if someone opened the door and let me in. Not that I’m complaining, but this hallway is rather drafty.”

Belle shook her head. She couldn’t face him. She’d rather walk barefoot across hot sand while fire rained down upon her than stand in a room with him for five minutes.

Emma was looking at her cautiously. “Belle, is there any reason I shouldn’t let Neal’s father into our apartment?”

Belle crossed her arms over her chest. Emma knew about her hellish fling in London, but she didn’t really want to bring that up right now, especially with the culprit himself listening to her every word.

She schooled her face into a look of indifference. “Fine. Let him in.” She flounced back over to her armchair and flopped down into it.

“Okay then,” Emma said, clearly not convinced. She exchanged a look with Neal, who only shrugged in return, and swung the door open.

Nick stood with his arms crossed, one foot tapping against the floor impatiently. “Lovely hallway you have here. Could do with some more heat.”

Emma let out a nervous laugh. “Well, rent isn’t cheap. It’s the best place we could afford on our salaries. The landlord is a real demon though.”

The side of Nick’s mouth twitched. “Demon? I suppose that’s not unheard of.”  

“Huh,” Emma said, nodding as if finally understanding something. “I guess we know where Neal gets his sense of humor from now.”

“Yes,” Nick said, glaring at his son. “Too bad that’s the only thing he inherited.” He stepped into the apartment, extending his hand out to Emma. “Speaking of manners, I’ve failed to properly introduce myself. Nick Gold.”

Emma shook his hand. “Emma Swan. And this is - ” She gestured towards Belle, who shot her a murderous glare that made her falter. “ - uh, I’m not sure who this is right now, but she used to be my roommate.”

Nick grunted, but wisely didn’t say anything or meet her eyes.

Belle was almost sorry. She would have loved to give him a mouthful.

“Pops, what are you doing here?” Neal asked, giving his father a significant look. He also seemed suspicious of Nick’s sudden appearance. Belle immediately forgave him for being the Antichrist's child.

Nick didn’t answer right away. With a polite smile that she didn’t believe for a moment, he turned back to Emma. “Would you give me a moment alone with my son? It’s a family matter.”

“Oh, of course.” Emma pointed to the kitchen behind her. “We’ll just be in there.”

Belle looked up from the book she had been pretending to read. “I’m not moving just so he can - ” The rest of her sentence was cut off when Emma yanked her by the arm out of the chair and into the kitchen.

As the door swung shut behind them, Emma released her arm, giving her a stern look.

“Alright, you wanna tell me why you’re acting like a crazy woman?”

Belle’s irritation at Emma dragging her into the kitchen deflated. Despite being four years younger, Emma had always done a much better job at playing the protective older sister.

It had been true since the very beginning, when Belle had answered an ad for a roommate which she’d found on the bulletin board outside her therapist’s door. It had been shortly after her return from England and her new friendship with Emma had been a godsend as she recovered from her heartbreak.

She gave Emma a weak smile, knowing that this wasn’t going to be pretty. “Remember that fling I had in London?”

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin waited until the kitchen door had closed before rounding on his son.

“What in the name of Heaven and Hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Baelfire bristled immediately. “Uh, I don’t know. Living my life? Spending time with a beautiful woman?”

Rumplestiltskin rubbed his forehead, hoping to ward off the headache that was forming. “There’s a difference between dallying with a pretty girl and falling in love.” He met his son’s eyes. “According to Archie, you’re very close to doing the latter.”

“Since when do you listen to Archie?” Baelfire asked, conspicuously not denying the fact.

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to point this out when he heard a shriek from the kitchen. It had been from Emma and it sounded suspiciously like she had yelled the word “Him?” at the top of her lungs.

He cringed. This wasn’t going to be pretty. If he was fast, maybe he could grab Baelfire and leave before -

Emma burst through the kitchen door, brandishing a rolling pin like a sword and gesturing at him violently with it.

“Get out,” she said. “No one treats my friend like that.”

Baelfire’s head snapped back and forth between his girlfriend and his father, clearly at a loss to what was happening.

Rumplestiltskin met her gaze calmly. He had faced much deadlier weapons than a baking utensil in his long lifetime. Add that to the fact that he immortal and there wasn’t much that could scare him.

Though if he was honest, the look of deadly earnestness on Emma’s face came close.  

“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing a finger at the rolling pin not six inches from his face.

“Oh, you bet I mind,” Emma said. “If I had known who you were, I’d have slammed the door in your face myself **.”**

Behind Emma, he could just see Belle peeking out from behind the kitchen door, her teeth gnawing worriedly at her bottom lip. It was an infuriating habit that he’d grown to find irresistible during their time together.

Dammit, he thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about London. Or Belle’s lips. And definitely _not_ the things that Belle’s lips had done to him in London.

It was hard enough to deal with the fact that Emma’s roommate had somehow turned out to be _Belle-bloody-French_ of all people. He didn’t need to torture himself further by remembering their time together or why she had very good reasons for wanting to shut doors in his face.

“Emma,” Baelfire said cautiously, “would you like to tell me why you’re threatening my dad with a rolling pin?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Rumplestiltskin. “The knives were all dirty.”

“Emma!”

With a roll of her eyes, she lowered the rolling pin to her side. “Do you want to tell him or should I?” she asked Rumplestiltskin.

When Baelfire looked at him expectantly, he knew he’d have to explain. It’d be far worse for him if he let Emma tell the story. He just wished Belle wasn’t still hiding behind the door, listening to every word he said. It’d be so much easier to lie if she wasn’t there.

“Ah, well, it’s actually a very funny story, you see.” He avoided looking towards where Belle stood, keeping his eyes firmly on Baelfire’s left ear. “Belle and I happened to meet in London a few years ago, and became rather, ah, intimately acquainted. For a time.”

He risked a look at his son’s face, only to see Baelfire staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Shit, that was Belle?”

“What?” Rumplestiltskin asked, startled. He hadn’t expected that reaction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Belle leaned out a little further from behind the kitchen door. Rumplestiltskin wished it would slam back in her face. He knew that wasn’t a very gentlemanly thought, but he was only a demon after all.

Plus, tit for tat and all that.

“Only that you’ve been a miserable git ever since you came back from London three years ago - ”

Baelfire’s voice cut out mid-sentence. He glared at Rumplestiltskin who smiled back benignly.

“Did you lose your voice again, son? Tsk, tsk, that’s just too bad.” He gave Emma a wide smile. “We best be off. Family thing, you understand. Baelfire - uh, _Neal_ will call you.”

He went to grab his son’s arm, but Baelfire stepped out of his grasp. His face was stormy and he met his father’s eyes with a steely glare.

“Fine,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Have it your way. Enjoy your time as the Little Mermaid, because you won’t be getting your voice back until you end this - ” he waved his hand at Emma “ - foolishness.”

Slamming the door behind him, he was halfway down the hallway before he heard the door open again.

A smirk came to his lips as he began to turn around. He knew his son would come to his senses eventually. Sometimes it just took a firm hand to -

Belle stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed around her middle.

“I think you owe me an explanation, Nick. Especially since it sounds like you’ve regretted your decision for the past three years.”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart began to race wildly within his chest.

For the first time, he wondered if this was what dying felt like. 


	4. Chapter 4

They stood in the hallway, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. 

Rumplestiltskin had lived many years, but somehow, nothing in his life had ever felt as long as the silence that stretched between himself and Belle at that moment.

She was still undoubtedly angry, but unlike before, she seemed willing to hear him out and give him a chance to explain. 

He was pretty sure he preferred getting the door slammed in his face. 

Eventually though, even Belle’s patience evaporated. “You left me without a word, Nick. The least you could do is tell me why.” 

“I left a note.”

The words were out before he could stop them. He didn’t need to see Belle’s expression to know they had been the wrong ones.  

Her face turned bright red. She pointed a finger at him accusingly. “That doesn’t count and you know it.” 

She was right, but he had made his decision three years ago. If this was his hill to die on - metaphorically speaking - then he had better just get it over with. No reason to drag it out. Even if his heart - dirty and dusty as it was - would shrivel up once he left her again. 

He smoothed his suit out, his voice as impersonal as if they were discussing the weather. “I had business to attend to.” 

“Bollocks. You’re an undertaker; your clients aren’t exactly going anywhere.” 

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to argue when his memories caught up with him. In London, when Belle had asked what he did for a living, he’d merely said that he “worked with the dead.” She’d assumed that meant he was a mortician, and he had played along, happy to have a career that she wouldn’t ask too many questions about. 

“So this is how it’s going to be then?” Belle asked, taking a few steps towards him. “You’re just going to walk out of my life again without any explanation?”

She looked on the verge of tears, and Rumplestiltskin knew he had no way to comfort her, no answers that would soothe the damage he’d inflicted. 

He’d never meant to hurt her this much. If he’d known that she’d still feel this strongly about their fling all this time later...well, he didn’t know if it would have changed anything. Maybe he would have been brave enough to at least end things in person. 

But if life had taught him anything, it was that if you were in the wrong, your only choice was to double down.  

“I broke no vow with you, Belle. We never talked about things going further – ”

“Bullshit. We both knew what was happening between us. It was obvious how we felt about each other.” 

“Simply ‘knowing’ something isn’t enough,” he said, desperately scrambling for some kind of lifeline, anything to hold onto. He could feel himself getting swept up in Belle like he had last time. He couldn’t do that again. This had to end now. “What I know, dearie, is that nothing is official unless it’s signed and sealed. A binding contract is - ”

“I didn’t need a stupid contract! I could see how you felt about me; it was plastered all over your face.” She walked forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Just like it is now.” 

He’d forgotten how heady her scent could be, and he caught himself swaying closer to her. “You’re mistaken.” The words were meant to be firm, but they sounded hollow even to his ears.

“If you really believe that, then I feel sorry for you. It must be hard living life not knowing what you actually want.” 

She was so close. He could easily touch her if he just reached his fingertips out. 

Belle’s pupils were wide and dark. He was happy to see that he was not the only one affected by their proximity to each other. 

“I know what I want, dearie,” he said smoothly, grateful that his voice betrayed none of his panic. “It’s just not you.” 

Belle’s eyes narrowed and her gaze traveled across his face, expression triumphant when she seemed to find what she was looking for. 

“Is that so?” Her chin angled up towards him and he realized she had answered his challenge.

Without another word, Belle surged forward. Her mouth latched onto his, and they stumbled back against the wall. 

Her lips were warm and soft against his, her mouth sweet to the taste. It was bliss and torture, heaven and hell, all rolled into one. He knew they shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. Not when Belle was in his arms, her small body flush against his, pinning him to the wall. 

He let his fingers sink into her hair, drinking every bit of her in as she squirmed against him. She bit down on his bottom lip hard, and he groaned into her mouth unashamedly. 

Belle pulled away suddenly, causing him to stumble forward, his mouth seeking hers hungrily. Eyes flickering open, he took in the sight of her, face flushed and hair mussed from their activity. She was glorious, just as she had been when they’d spent their days exploring London and their nights exploring  each other.

But as he gazed at her, he saw the change almost immediately. The Belle he knew had looked at him with warmth and devotion, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. That was all gone. There was victory in her eyes now, and they seemed colder than he had ever seen them before. 

“Now you know what it feels like,” she said, her voice breaking a bit as she stepped away from him, leaving him achingly cold. “Go home, Nick.” 

She turned and walked back to the apartment, closing the door behind her. He heard the latch lock in place a second later. 

He stayed where he was, leaning heavily against the wall for several minutes. He’d come here with the simple mission of breaking up his son’s relationship. That hadn’t happened and now there were three people in that apartment that hated his guts. 

Worse, he’d hurt Belle far more deeply than he ever could have imagined. And worst of all, he might just be as hopelessly infatuated with her as ever. 

* * *

 

Belle sank back against the door after turning the latch. She didn’t know what had possessed her out there in that hallway. It was so unlike her to do anything like that. 

At first there had been a rush of adrenaline, but now she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or throw up. Either way, the last thing she wanted was to be questioned about her feelings, especially when she didn’t know what they were herself. 

Neal and Emma were standing in the living room, staring at her with wide eyes. 

So much for privacy, she thought glumly. 

“What in the world is going on?” Emma asked, throwing her hands up in the air. 

Neal tried to speak, but his voice was still gone. He settled for a vague gesture that seemed to agree with Emma.

“I just - ” Belle paused, unsure of how to explain. “He’s gone now. Don’t worry.” 

“Worry?” Emma nearly screeched. “My boyfriend’s asshole father is the schmuck that broke your heart, and now he’s trying to break us up!” She flopped back on the couch. “But yeah, who’s worried?”

Neal made a few more gestures with his hands, but the meaning was lost on both Belle and Emma. 

“Yeah, that’s another weird thing,” Emma said. “I find the timing of you losing your voice really suspicious.” 

Neal put a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Me?” he mouthed silently.

“No, Dante,” Emma said sarcastically. “Yes, you! Is your dad some kind of hypnotist or something? Because he was acting like he had done that to you somehow.” She turned to Belle. “Does Nick know any magic tricks?”

Belle felt a blush rise on her face. “Umm…”

“Ugh,” Emma gagged. “Never mind. I already know way too much about that man’s sex life.” 

“Emma!” Neal yelled. The three of them jumped at the sound. He blushed. “Guess my voice is back, huh?” 

“You want to explain what the hell happened here?” Emma asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Funny you should say it that way...” Neal trailed off when he got glares from both of them. “Short story, my dad’s basically incapable of having any kind of human reaction to anything.”

Belle coughed slightly. Back in the hallway, it had felt like Nick was having a  _ very  _ human reaction when he was pressed up against her. 

“He wanted you to break things off with me,” Emma said, her voice quieter this time. 

Neal shook his head, pulling Emma into his arms. “He doesn’t get to decide my life for me, no matter what tricks he pulls. You’re stuck with me now.” 

Emma smiled against his chest. “I can live with that.” 

Feeling like she was intruding, Belle slipped away to her bedroom quietly. She sank onto her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Even though she had only been awake for a couple hours, she was suddenly exhausted. 

Tears leaked from her eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them back. While she’d often dreamed of Nick showing up again in her life, full of apologies and grand romantic gestures to win her back, she’d never actually thought she’d see him again. Having him show up in her living room while she was still in her pajamas was just too much to bear.

Clutching her duvet tightly, she fell asleep a few minutes later. If she dreamed of a brooding, sarcastic man with soft brown eyes and passionate lips, she didn’t mention it to anyone when she woke up.

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin hated admitting that he was wrong. He’d much rather eat crow - and he did mean that in the literal sense as there were plenty of the damned birds swooping in and out of his kingdom - than give an apology to anyone, but there seemed to be no way around it. It had been four days since he’d commanded his son to leave the mortal and return home, but Baelfire had not so much as stepped a toe back into the Underworld.  

He would never admit it to anyone, but the chance of seeing Belle again might have played a tiny role in his motivation to return to the surface. That kiss had burned its way into his memory faster than a hot branding iron sears the skin, and try as he might, he could not forget how it had felt to have her in his arms again.

With a sigh, he got up from his throne, knowing he would be useless until he sorted things out. Back to Maine he would go.

Several hours later, he stood once again in the small town of Storybrooke, population forgettable. No one had been at the apartment, and so he had wandered around the town, trying to pick up any trace of the three. Usually, he was able to track Baelfire fairly easily, but his son must have been blocking him somehow, most likely as punishment for his earlier interference.

As he reached a large sign that read “Storybrooke Library”, he paused. Belle had been a librarian when they met, so perhaps she worked there. 

He walked forward, sneaking a glance inside one of the library’s big windows. 

Sure enough, Belle stood behind the large circulation desk, typing into a desktop computer. He stood at the window a moment longer, enjoying the chance to take a long look at her without risking her throwing insults or heavy books at him. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just stand there all day. Summoning up his courage, he strode into the library purposefully, swallowing down every last fear before they could bubble to the surface. 

Belle turned to greet him, the smile on her face falling as she realized it was him.

“Come back to steal more voices?” she asked, her voice dripping with false politeness. 

Rumplestiltskin froze. Had Baelfire told them the truth? He searched Belle’s eyes for any fear or comprehension of who he truly was. To his relief, he found none. 

“Only the voices of the printed page,” he lied smoothly. 

Belle sniffed. “Card?” 

When he looked at her blankly, she sighed. “You need a library card to check out books. And as I’ve worked here for years and never seen you, I’m pretty sure you don’t have one.” She leaned forward on the circulation desk. “You might want to work on your lying. This is the second time I’ve caught you this week.” 

Drawn in against his will, he leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. “Then why don’t you educate me?” he asked, letting his voice drop suggestively. 

Belle straightened as if she had been slapped. “No, thank you. I already have enough regrets to last me a lifetime.” 

“Try several lifetimes,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Sorry?” Belle’s face scrunched up adorably. “I didn’t get that.” 

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. I just came to - ” He cleared his throat, glancing around quickly to make sure they were alone. If he was going to apologize, he damn well didn’t want an audience. “Perhaps I was a little...harsh the other day,” he said slowly. “There were probably better ways I could have phrased things, especially regarding our prior acquaintance.” 

Belle stared at him as if he had grown a third head. He surreptitiously ran a hand through his hair, relieved to find no extra appendages. True, it had only happened once before, but something like that was always worth checking. 

“Was that supposed to be an apology? Because if it is, I’m a little concerned that you got through this many years of life without knowing what one actually sounds like.”

“Maybe you can provide me with a dictionary then,” he replied nastily. 

She gave him a fake smile. “Sorry, no card.” 

Before he could reply, a man approached the desk. He looked to be 35 going on 16, based on the amount of hair gel, eyeliner, and black leather he was wearing. 

“Hey Belle, I was just - ” 

The moment the man’s gaze fell on Rumplestiltskin he all but jumped out of his leathers, stumbling back from the desk and looking at him with wide, fearful eyes. 

Belle’s mouth fell open. She glanced back and forth between the two of them for a few seconds before snapping her jaw closed and rounding on Rumplestiltskin. “What did you do?” she demanded. 

Rumplestiltskin was as surprised as she was. He had no idea why this man was so afraid of him. 

Although now that he was taking a closer look, there was definitely something familiar about this pirate-wanna-be **.**

He chuckled as the memory came back to him. “Killian, isn’t it?” he asked, extending a hand in greeting to the man. 

Killian Jones stared at the proffered hand in horror. “Aye.”

Rumplestiltskin gave him a shark-like grin in return. “I thought so! I never forget a soul. What’s it been? About 10 years since our little business deal?” 

The younger man nodded glumly. “I believe so.” 

“How’s that ship of yours? Sailing fine now?” 

Killian nodded miserably once again.

With a bark of laughter, Rumplestiltskin slapped him hard on the back, causing the man to stumble. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around then.” 

Killian nodded hurriedly and gave him a strange little bow, before taking off at a run through the front doors and out into the street. 

Rumplestiltskin turned back to see Belle staring at him open-mouthed again. 

“It’s going to freeze that way one of these days,” he said, gently pushing her jaw closed with his fingers. 

“I think - I think you should go now,” she stammered, still looking at him with alarm. 

He nodded, happy to agree. It would be easier if she didn’t ask questions about what had just happened. 

“Any idea where I can find my son?” 

“Umm, I think he and Emma are at Granny’s restaurant up the street.” 

“Then I bid you a good day, Miss French.” 

He sauntered out of the library, well aware that her eyes followed him the entire way. Despite how the visit had gone, he considered it a success. Surely any romantic feelings she had once had for him would be squashed by the weirdness of their encounter. She would move on with her life and he would have nothing to feel guilty about anymore. 

Eyes falling upon the diner Belle had mentioned, he grinned. Now all he had to do was drag his son back to Hell and everything would be normal again. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was past seven o’clock when Belle finally locked up the library and began her walk home. It had been a strange day to say the least, and she was looking forward to curling up in her favorite armchair with a good book. She needed to escape from the weirdness of the last few days and she knew no better way than reading. 

Granted, the book would have to be different enough from real life that she wasn’t reminded of it. Mysteries were out, and romances with brooding anti heroes were definitely out.

So much for her classic literature collection, she thought humorously. 

Not feeling up to cooking after her long day, she popped into Granny’s on her way back to the apartment, planning on getting a hamburger to go. It was a Friday night anyway, so she felt she deserved a little treat. 

She stopped short when she saw Nick sitting at a booth in the far corner. He looked terrible. His body was slumped forward, his elbows propped up on the table and his face buried in his hands. 

She remembered telling him that Emma and Neal were here, but that had been hours ago. Had he really been here this whole time? 

Despite her better judgment, she found herself walking towards him, stopping next to the booth. 

“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “Your apology didn’t go over well.”

He snorted. “Whatever gave it away?” he asked sarcastically, too weary to put too much bite into it. 

Not knowing what possessed her, she slid into the seat across from him. She was sure she’d regret it later, but her curiosity demanded to know what had happened, especially if it had rattled Nick’s self-confidence this much. 

He peeked out at her from behind his hands. “What are you doing?” he asked, warily. 

“Ordering dinner,” she replied matter-of-factly **,** picking up a menu. “It is a restaurant after all.” 

He frowned. “I know it’s a restaurant. What I mean is what are you doing here in this booth? I was under the distinct impression that you didn’t want me around.” 

“Hmm, is that the impression I gave?” She flipped over the menu. “I think I’ll get an iced tea.” 

She could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye. Considering how often he had confused her in the past, it was nice to even the score a bit. 

Granny came over to the table, glancing between the two of them curiously as she took Belle’s order. 

“More coffee?” she asked Nick, pointing at his empty mug. 

His reply was more grunt than yes, but she took it as an affirmation, filling up his cup. “You want to order anything else? You’ve been here long enough to memorize the menu.” 

Belle looked at Granny in surprise. She had never heard the older woman use such a sharp tone with a customer before. 

Then again, it was Nick. He had a knack for bringing out the sides of people they usually kept hidden. 

She tried not to think too much about what that said about her.  

“Just coffee,” Nick replied through gritted teeth.

Granny huffed. “Suit yourself. Burger coming right up, Belle.” 

She waited until Granny left before whispering, “What did you do to Granny? I’ve never seen her be that rude to anyone.” 

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Neal and I may have gotten a bit carried away during our argument.”

Based on how well their last meeting had gone, Belle could only imagine. “We seriously need to work on your apologies.” 

“We?” He looked at her with something akin to hope in his eyes, though he quickly dropped his gaze. 

If she didn’t know better, she’d say he still had feelings for her. But that was ridiculous. Lust, perhaps. He’d clearly enjoyed their make out session in the hallway the other day. But she now knew that anything beyond that had just been wishful thinking on her part. 

Not that she wished for that. God, no. 

“Uh, I meant to say ‘you’,” Belle said hurriedly. The man resembled nothing more than a kicked puppy right now and she was still hopelessly tongue-tied around him.  

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, staring at his coffee mug miserably, as if the answer to his question would float to the surface. “I tried to reason with him, but he just won’t listen to me.” 

“Perhaps he’d be more willing to listen if you didn’t demand that he break up with Emma.” She knew her roommate had a forceful personality, but that shouldn’t be a concern for Nick. His temperament made Emma look like a docile lamb. 

Nick shook his head. “You don’t understand. He’ll lose everything if he stays with her!” 

That must have been more than he meant to say, because his head whipped up suddenly, his gaze meeting hers. “I - uh, I mean,” he stammered. “He has responsibilities at home. The family business is very...time consuming.” 

Once again, Belle had the feeling that she was missing something, a vital piece of the puzzle that - if she could only grab hold of it - would make everything else fall into place. 

“Is that why you dumped me?” she asked quietly. “Because of your business?” 

A strange look flitted across his face - regret perhaps? But it was gone before she could catch it. 

“I suppose it was...in a way.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. While it was true that certain careers and relationships didn’t work well together, she’d like to think that she wouldn’t have interfered with Nick’s undertaking business too much. 

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure how she would derail such a career, if she wanted to. 

“Well, at least I have an answer now,” she said, keeping her voice light. She’d wanted an explanation for three years and now she finally had one. There was really no point in being upset or disappointed that it had turned out to be such a mundane reason for breaking her heart, she told herself. Pushing the thought away, she focused back on the present issue. “But I don’t think you’re going to convince Neal to follow in your footsteps.” 

Nick gave her a sad smile. “That’s what I’m beginning to realize.” 

He looked so dejected sitting there that Belle felt her heart go out to him, despite everything that had happened between them. Nick may not have been able to love her, but he truly loved his son. Her relationship with her own father had been strained since her mother died and had never really recovered. Nick wasn’t being a great father at the moment, but the fact that an argument with his son could reduce him to such misery was a testament to how much he cared for Neal. 

If Maurice had ever tried half that hard in his parenting, Belle would have been thrilled. She couldn’t fix her relationship with her own father, but maybe she could help with this one. 

Besides, the sooner Nick and Neal patched things up, the sooner Nick would leave town. 

And that’s what she truly wanted, right? 

Belle pushed her conflicting thoughts away and focused on the issue at hand, which was the man moping on the bench across from her.  

“I know you had a plan for Neal, but people change. And sometimes the plan needs to change along with them.” She laid her hand on his, trying to get him to meet her eyes. “Isn’t it better to let go of your plans rather than risk losing someone you love?” 

He looked up and she held his gaze, willing him to see how sincere she was. He stared back, emotions flickering across his face too quickly for her to comprehend. 

“Belle, I - ”

“Here’s your dinner.” Granny dropped the plate of hamburger and fries onto the table unceremoniously, ruining whatever moment had been building between them. “Did you need pickles with that?” 

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin bit back a groan as Granny all but slammed Belle’s dinner onto the table. The woman had absolutely no subtly about her. 

It was probably for the best though. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been about to say, but he was pretty sure it would have only gotten him into more trouble. The kind of trouble that he was definitely trying  _ not  _ to get into with Belle. 

Again.  

Belle had snatched her hand back when Granny had appeared. Neither of them looked at each other as the older woman walked away. Belle began to pick at her fries, popping one into her mouth.  

He knew she was right. He couldn’t keep trying to force Baelfire to break up his relationship and return home with him. His son had inherited his stubborn streak, and if Rumplestiltskin continued arguing with him, it would only drive them further apart. 

However, that didn’t mean he could give up. If Baelfire fell in love with Emma, he would settle down on the surface, effectively becoming a mortal. He wouldn’t be able to visit Hell easily and as Rumplestiltskin could only leave for emergencies, their opportunities to see each other would grow few and far between. His son’s life would become separate from his own, and their close relationship would crumble as Baelfire grew further and further apart from his father. 

He couldn’t lose his relationship to Baelfire. His visits from his son were one of the few good things he still had in his life. The very idea of losing them was unthinkable. 

Belle thought he should apologize and try to be supportive of Baelfire’s relationship with Emma. Perhaps she was right...one did catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. 

“Would you help me?” Rumplestiltskin asked. He knew it was risky to prolong his time with her, but if it helped save his son, he would do it. He ignored the voice inside that let out a cheer at the thought of spending more time in her presence. 

Big-hearted as he knew her to be, he was hardly surprised when she beamed at him. 

He did, however, jump when she placed her hand over his again, squeezing gently.

“I’d be happy to.”

He just stared at her, unsure of how to proceed. He had done everything wrong, treated her horribly, and yet, she still wanted to help him. She was so kind-hearted; he didn’t deserve her. 

But then again, that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

More importantly, how in the world was he going to walk away from her again once this was all over?

He swallowed hard. “Do you want to get a drink?”

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Rumplestiltskin found himself in the diviest bar he had ever encountered in his millennia of life. 

The Rabbit Hole was less like a bar and more like an actual hole in the ground. Honestly, he’d seen nicer graves than this. 

But it was right around the corner from Granny’s and not far from Belle’s apartment, so it had been the obvious choice. Drinking with Belle was probably not a great idea, but it seemed far preferable to being sober around her. 

“So,” Belle said awkwardly, twirling the straw in her amaretto sour. “What have you been up to these last three years?”

There wasn’t any resentment in her voice and for that he was grateful. But what could he really tell her without revealing his true identity? 

“Mainly working,” he said with a tight smile. “Work doesn’t allow me to get away much.”

“I bet the customers are just dying to get in, right?” Belle cracked a smile at him. 

He chuckled. “You have no idea.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Her question brought him up short. Had anyone ever asked him if he enjoyed running the Underworld?

“Not anymore,” he finally admitted. “I did once, but that was a long time ago.”  

“Then quit.” 

“It’s not as simple as that.” Rumplestiltskin sighed. It was difficult to explain when he couldn’t tell her the truth. “I have a duty, whether I like it or not.”

“Maybe it’s more important to you than you think. You seem to have made a lot of sacrifices for it.” 

Her voice was nonchalant as she spoke, but Rumplestiltskin knew what she was referring to. After all, he’d admitted that he’d ended their relationship because of his work. Despite how kind she had been to him tonight, it was obvious the hurt he had caused her still lingered. 

It made the fact that he was lying to her about his intentions toward Baelfire - and using her in the process - even more terrible. She didn’t deserve this. She hadn’t deserved any of his poor treatment of her.  

He sat his glass down on the table. “I am truly sorry, Belle, for what I put you through. I never wanted to hurt you, but I know that means little now.”

Had his heart not already been in pieces, the tears in Belle’s eyes would have broken it again. 

“See, you do know how to apologize,” she said, giving him a watery smile. She contemplated her drink for a moment before asking quietly, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I wouldn’t have been happy about your decision, but it would have been kinder than just leaving a note.” 

“Because I was scared.” The words rushed out before he could stop them, but perhaps that was for the best. He owed her that much at least.  

She looked taken aback. “Of me?” 

He shook his head. “That I wouldn’t have left.”

“Would that have been so bad?” 

He sighed. How could he explain? Especially when there were moments, like this one, where he questioned everything he believed. 

Their time together in London had been some of the best days of his life. Belle had been a breath of fresh air, a balm to his darkened soul. He’d basked in her sweetness and light for as long as he could, but the truth had never been far from him, whispering in his ear even as he spent his nights making love to her. 

Because no matter what he might wish, he was the Devil. He couldn’t love her, not the way she deserved to be loved. In the recesses of his own blackened heart, he’d loved her enough to let her go.

“Belle, I have few rules in my life, but those I have are absolute. Without them...well, I don’t know who I’d be.” 

They sat in silence for a time. Rumplestiltskin thought that she’d change the topic or tell him he was full of shit. Honestly, he was mostly just surprised she was still sitting here with him.

“Do you ever regret your choice?” 

The question stole the breath out of him for a moment. Considering the territory their conversation had veered into, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But the way she had asked, her voice small and her eyes so very large in the dim lit bar, hit him harder than if she had screamed the question at him. 

He was quiet as he chose his words, weighing his options. He could lie very easily, tell her she’d been a wonderful break from the tedium of his unfulfilling life, that he was very grateful for their time together, but that that was all. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue and yet, he couldn’t say them. What’s more, he didn’t want to say them. He’d expected this conversation three years ago, and had ran from it, hid from it since then. 

But now she was asking. In his spider web of lies, surely he could offer her this one truth?

He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “Every day.” 

* * *

 

Her brain wasn’t working. All she could do was stare at Nick, replaying what he had said.

A dozen ideas began running through her mind at once, but she couldn’t focus on any of them. The loudest was telling her to throw herself at Nick and snog him until they fell out of their chairs and had sex under the table, but even Belle’s libido told her that probably wasn’t the wisest option. 

His expression was carefully blank, but she had gotten better at reading this enigmatic man in the time since he had come back. She could see the anxiety in his eyes. He was afraid at what she might say. He had laid himself bare for her, as vulnerable as if he was lying naked - 

Belle shook her head. She really needed to get a grip on her hormones. 

“I missed you too,” she said finally, wanting to repay his truth with her own. “I really appreciate you being honest with me.” 

He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone. 

Raising her glass, she clinked it against his. “To Fate,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood. “For making our paths cross again.” 

A smile played about the edge of Nick’s lips. “I’ll drink to that. Even though it was actually my assistant, Archie, and not Fate.” He took a sip of his scotch. “Which, to be honest, is probably for the best. Those are three divinities you do not want to mess with.” He chuckled quietly. “Though they are excellent spinners. Taught me quite a lot.” 

Belle shook her head in amusement. His humor never ceased to confound and entertain her. 

“Your assistant sent you here?” she asked, focusing on the saner part of his comment. 

“Yes, he heard that Neal was here and let me know.” 

“Your assistant keeps tabs on your son?” Belle raised an eyebrow. “You’re not actually in the mob, are you?” 

He chuckled again. “Not quite. I’ll admit I was pretty surprised when Archie came running into the...uhh, embalming room...with the news. But as it was the most useful he’s been in decades, I didn’t really mind.” 

“You’ve had the same assistant for that long?”  

He smirked. “In my line of work, we’re all lifers.” 

The conversation flowed easily from there, both of them staying away from any heavy topics, especially regarding what had passed between them. Belle was glad to be moving on to lighter subjects, even if part of her longed to return to their previous discussion.

The night passed enjoyably. They had several more drinks and basked in the warm happiness that followed. 

Belle wasn’t quite sure that her buzz was entirely due to the drinks, but she pushed that thought away for another day.

As the hour drew close to midnight, they both reluctantly agreed it was time to head home. Nick paid their tab despite Belle’s valiant argument for why he shouldn’t - and her secret enjoyment that he did - and then escorted her on the short walk back to her apartment.

They paused to say good night when they reached her front door. A part of Belle - a very stupid part, she admitted - wanted to invite him inside. She knew it was a terrible idea for many reasons, not the least of which was that Emma and Neal were most likely asleep right now and might not take kindly to hearing her and Nick making the beast with two backs in the next room.

Somehow she didn’t think that would help Nick’s apology go over more smoothly. 

“You should stop by tomorrow morning,” she said finally, her hand hovering above the doorknob. “Maybe bring bagels or something? That should endear you enough to Emma to let you get through the front door.”

He grinned. “Consider it done.” 

She nodded, feeling herself blush as she remembered their last goodbye in this hallway. Perhaps he was remembering too, because he suddenly seemed shy. 

Belle reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Nick.” 

He looked back at her in surprise, his expression adorably befuddled. He gave her a slight bow as he said good night, then backed away down the hallway, his eyes darting back to her every few steps. As he reached the top step of the landing, he waved awkwardly before descending down the stairs. 

Once he had disappeared from view, Belle unlocked her door, sighing as she closed it behind her. Hopefully, tomorrow would go well. After that...well, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen after that. 

One problem at a time, she reminded herself. She could freak out about her and Nick if and when Neal and Emma forgave him. Until then, it was a moot point.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning dawned bright and early. Having only gotten to bed at one o’clock that morning, even Emma was more chipper than Belle was. 

That lasted for about half an hour until Belle worked up the courage to tell them about their soon-to-be arriving breakfast guest. She had figured it was better to break the news to them before he showed up at their door. Now she was wishing she had let him take the fall himself. 

Neal was pacing in front of the couch, looking furious at her. “I refuse to open that door! He is not darkening my doorstep.”

Emma, who didn’t seem very thrilled with the idea either, gave him a flat look. 

“Umm, your doorstep, I mean.” 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Belle, are you sure about this?” 

“You should have seen him last night,” Belle said, wondering if she was arguing a lost cause. “He was a wreck when I found him.” 

“I’m not doubting that,” Emma said gently. “It’s just that...well, you always try and see the best in people and sometimes…” 

“Sometimes what?” Belle asked, crossing her arms. 

“Well…” Emma looked over to Neal for help, but he was too busy pacing. “Sometimes I think you forgive a little too easily.” 

Belle shook her head. “It’s not like that.” 

“Really?” Emma’s mouth curved into a grin suddenly. “You sure you’re not just forgiving him because you want to bang him again?” 

“Emma!” Neal and Belle yelled simultaneously. 

“What?” Emma tried to look innocent and failed spectacularly. She shrugged a shoulder towards Neal. “Maybe we should just hear your dad out? If Belle thinks it’s worth giving him a second chance…”

“Oh, I am well aware of the effect my father can have on women,” Neal said bitterly. “He’s not worming his way in here! He can go to Hell for all I care - ” 

There was a knock at the door. 

Belle jumped. She had been standing by the window, keeping an eye out for Nick, but she hadn’t even seen him walk up to the apartment building. 

Before Neal could object, she hurried over to the door and pulled it open. Nick stood there, looking as dapper as ever in a three-piece suit, holding open a box of expensive-looking pastries.

“Breakfast?” he asked. 

“I’ll say!” Emma strode over to the door, grabbing a macaron. She took a bite and moaned. “Holy shit, these are amazing.” She glanced at the box, her face wrinkling in confusion. “Wait, are these from Paris?” 

Nick shut the box quickly. “Of course not. Just a little shop in the next town over.” 

Neal was glaring at his father as Belle and Emma moved aside for him to come in. 

“Oh yes, just a little Parisian bakery,” Neal said. “It’s amazing how many just happen to be lying around the coast of Maine.”

Belle figured she should butt in before Neal derailed this meeting over something as minor as the birthplace of the pastries. 

“Neal, please just hear your father out. He’s really sorry about everything that’s happened and - ”

Realizing she was basically apologizing for Nick, she snapped her mouth shut. 

Nick let out a small chuckle. He set down the pastry box on the table. “Belle is right. I am sorry for what’s happened between us and how I’ve driven you away.” He crossed the room to his son. “I don’t want to lose you because of my actions.” 

Neal didn’t say anything, just stared at his father assessingly. 

Nick turned to Emma next. “I must apologize to you as well, my dear. I was very rude to the woman my son loves and that is bad form indeed.” He offered her a hand. “Welcome to the family.” 

“Oh boy, that’s not - I mean, we haven’t talked about - ” Neal stumbled over his words, turning bright red as everyone stared at him. “We’ve only been dating a few months, pops. Let’s not put the cart before the horse, okay?” 

Emma tossed her head, looking every bit like she’d enjoy nothing more than punching Neal in the shoulder. She stuck out her hand and shook Nick’s. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” 

Neal looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the room at the moment. Emma was glaring at her boyfriend murderously and Nick seemed inordinately pleased at himself, though trying not to look it. 

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, though a smile tugged at her lips. Helping Nick turn over a new leaf might be harder than she had anticipated. 

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin was leaning back in Belle’s armchair with his glass of wine, feeling full and pleasantly relaxed. 

The four of them were lazing about the apartment after a wonderful dinner of risotto that Belle had cooked. Emma had insisted that he join them for supper during his visit that morning. Though it had obviously been a way to get back at Baelfire for his blunder, Rumplestiltskin had been delighted to attend and put more of his plan to separate his son from the mortal woman into action. 

Of course, he hadn’t wanted to move too quickly. He’d left shortly after Emma’s invitation that morning, not wanting to overstay his welcome and knowing his son would need time to cool down, and returned only at 6:00 pm for dinner. He’d brought a couple bottles of wine - this time from the local shop so as not to anger his son - and had been welcomed into the apartment politely by Emma, warmly by Belle, and begrudgingly by his son. 

Dinner had started out awkwardly, but by the time the appetizer had been finished and the first glass of wine had been drunk, the tension in the room had lessened. Emma had apparently forgiven Baelfire, and Belle - ever a calming presence in the midst of conflict - had done her best to keep the conversation going, telling humorous stories from her work at the library and getting other people to chime in with their own stories. 

He’d mostly sat back and listened, not wanting to make Baelfire uncomfortable by bringing up anything from their past. He had to be careful that his son not suspect his real motivation in apologizing. If Baelfire, who already had good reason to be suspicious of him, realized he was still trying to break up his relationship, Rumplestiltskin would be out on his ear in a second. 

So he’d just have to bide his time, which was fine with him. The meal had been delicious, the wine was a rather good vintage, and the company was - if he was honest with himself, a habit which he usually tried to avoid - rather enjoyable. 

Against all reason, the other three seemed content to let him stay as well. They had all retired to the living room after dinner and there had been no indications, direct or indirect, that they wished him to leave. 

And so, he relaxed as well, lulling them into a false sense of security. He was playing the long game, after all. Only when their defenses were completely down and they were most susceptible would he strike. They would never know what had hit them. 

But until then, he would wait. And maybe have another glass of wine. Plotting was thirsty work.

“Pops, you look like you’re planning something,” Baelfire said, after a lull in the conversation. He gave his father a knowing look from where he was spread out on the couch, Emma lying back against him. 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. How well his son knew him. Luckily, Baelfire looked more interested than suspicious.

“I was just thinking that it’s been a long time since I enjoyed such a delicious meal in such fine company.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Thank you for inviting me.” 

“You’re welcome anytime,” Emma said. “Especially if you bring such good wine.” 

She shot a significant glance toward Belle, who was sitting on the loveseat next to his chair, before letting out the most over-the-top yawn he had ever heard.  

“Is it really that late?” she asked tiredly. “I think it’s time Neal and I headed to bed.” 

Rumplestiltskin made to stand, but Emma quickly waved him back. “No, no, stay as long as you like. There’s absolutely no rush.” 

Baelfire was rolling his eyes behind Emma’s back, but he made no move to argue with her. “Night, pops.” 

“Good night,” Rumplestiltskin replied as the two hurriedly made their way further back into the apartment, Emma practically dragging Baelfire behind her. 

As the door fell shut behind them, Belle let out a soft groan. “Oh, Emma.” 

“She’s not very subtle, is she?” he asked, amused. 

“About as subtle as the edge of a blade,” she replied, a smile coming to her face. “But she looks out for me.” 

“Do you need looking after?” he asked, his voice dropping low.  He reached out his hand and caught her wrist, gently caressing it with his fingertips. 

Belle sucked in a breath, mesmerized by the circles he traced on her skin. “I’m not sure.” 

They locked eyes, each searching the other’s for an answer to a question they weren’t willing to ask yet.

“Would you like to grab a drink?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. 

“That depends,” Belle replied, her blue eyes burning with a light he hadn’t seen since London. “Can we drink it in your hotel room?”

* * *

 

Nick pushed her up against the wall, kissing his way down her neck. They had stumbled back to his hotel room and hadn’t even gotten around to the bottle of wine he’d set out for them.

“This doesn’t mean we’re back together,” Belle said, gasping as Nick bit down on her neck. For some reason it was very important to her that he knew that, even though she couldn’t remember exactly why at the moment. “I’m just using you for sex.” 

He chuckled. “I’m sure my male ego will be able to handle it.” 

He was smirking and Belle decided the best way to wipe the expression off his face was with her tongue. Their lips crashed together and she lost herself in the sensations. 

Asshole he may be, but Nick certainly knew how to use his mouth. 

In the back of her mind, she knew tonight was probably a mistake, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She’d wanted him since the moment his stupid face had showed up on her doorstep, and since he seemed to be in agreement, what was the point in denying themselves?

She wasn’t sure if things were going to be different this time or if he’d stay in Storybrooke for long, but both her heart and her body were telling her to go for it. Since that first night in London, she had felt a connection to Nick stronger than anything she had ever felt for anyone before. Even when she had wanted to hate him, she had felt drawn to him, like they were two magnets being pulled together by an unknown force. 

And if it really was Fate - or the Fates as Nick claimed - bringing them together, who was she to fight it?

Despite his small stature, Nick was surprisingly strong. He picked her up off the floor easily and Belle locked her legs around his hips. 

“I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve missed you.” 

She kissed him messily, their tongues twining around each other. His hand wandered up beneath her shirt, cupping her breast through her bra. 

Belle arched into him, sinking her fingers into his hair. It was just as soft as she remembered. She wondered if he was still as sensitive as he used to be. 

She gave a sharp yank on his hair and Nick groaned into her mouth. She smirked. That was a yes then.

He swung them around to the bed, dropping her down on top of it. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, vixen.” His eyes were narrowed, but she could see humor dancing within them. “It would be wise not to tempt the beast.”

Belle met his stare and then pulled her sweater off, tossing it at his feet. She bared her chest, covered in only a black lacy bra, to him. “Consider yourself tempted.” 

He chuckled, undoing his tie and letting it drop onto the floor with her shirt. He slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt, clearly taking his time as some sort of twisted way to torture her. 

When he finally let his shirt fall to the floor, she decided she’d had enough waiting. The white cotton t-shirt he was wearing underneath would be easy enough to rip off herself. Honestly, Nick should know better than to keep a lady waiting. 

She lunged at him, hauling him back onto the bed with her. He laughed as they flopped down on the mattress together.

“Impatient are we?” 

She raised her eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make jokes all night, I can just go home.”

“Uh no, I’ll behave. I promise.” 

She smirked. “I didn’t say anything about behaving…”

Belle rolled him over and climbed on top, straddling him. She unhooked her bra and threw it aside, watching as his eyes grew darker as he drank her in. 

“You are magnificent, Belle,” he said, his voice filled with awe. 

She shrugged happily, liking the way his voice dipped lower, doing pleasant things to her body. 

They came together again, kissing roughly as they quickly divested themselves of the rest of their clothes. The feel of his bare skin against hers was electric and she grinded against him, desperate to feel more. 

He grabbed the back of her thighs, shifting her up his body and towards his face. She hovered slightly above him, grabbing the wooden headboard for support. 

His tongue ran lightly against her entrance, causing her to shiver. The man had always had a silver tongue, though she much preferred it when it was utilized this way. 

His hands slid under her, using his thumbs to spread her open. His tongue danced against her core and up to her clit, leaving her breathless as her heart began to race furiously. His mouth seemed to remember every sensitive spot, every place that made her see stars. He lapped at her like a man gone mad, drinking her down as if she was the only water in the desert. She could feel herself getting close to her climax and she ground herself against his face, desperate for release. 

He let out a primal growl, lapping at her even more ferociously. He added a finger, then two, pumping them inside of her as his teeth gently scraped against her clit.

Belle moaned and buckled above him, her nails biting into the headboard to keep herself from falling on top of him. Nick carefully lowered her down onto the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close against his chest. 

“That was incredible,” she said, after she caught her breath. 

She could feel him smile into her hair. “It’s been a few years, but I still remember a thing or two.” 

Belle turned around in his arms to face him. “So, there hasn’t been anyone else since…” She trailed off, unsure if she actually wanted to know.

He touched her face reverently, eyes bright. “There’s never been anyone since you, Belle.”

Her heart surged and she moved with it, attacking his lips with her own. She needed him, needed to feel him everywhere. It wouldn’t be enough until she could feel him, hot and hard, inside of her. 

He met her kiss for kiss, rolling her onto her back. She managed to say that she was on the pill somewhere between kisses and she heard his groan of appreciation. 

A moment later, he was pushing against her entrance, his eyes seeking hers for approval. Belle opened her legs wide, welcoming him in. 

He slid inside smoothly, filling her completely. They fit together perfectly. This was what she had missed most of all: the sense of utter rightness when they were together. Like they were two halves of the same soul and only when they were put together could they be complete. 

She wrapped her legs around him, letting him sink even deeper. He grunted as he pumped his hips, sending delicious sensations through her body as he thrust into her. 

Belle could feel herself heading towards another orgasm. She caught his lips with her own, biting down hard on his bottom lip. 

He let out a strangled yelp, his rhythm faltering for a moment. He worked a hand between their bodies, his fingers rubbing against her clit as he began to thrust even more erratically into her. 

Belle’s world narrowed to the sensations flooding through her body. She came with a sudden jolt, screaming Nick’s name. 

He followed after her, emptying himself into her before slumping down on the bed beside her. 

They lay there in silence, both catching their breath.

“Holy Hell,” she said. 

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”  


	7. Chapter 7

Rumplestiltskin sat in a bar stool at the Rabbit Hole, clutching a glass of scotch and wondering how he had managed to get himself into such trouble. Again. 

He was happy. For the first time in years. That was the problem.

It was also the reason he was drinking in this fire trap in the middle of the afternoon instead of cuddled up with Belle in his hotel room. The sad truth was that his happiness stemmed from being with Belle and he couldn’t be with Belle. Not in any way that counted. 

So he sat miserably at the bar, nursing his scotch and contemplating just how screwed up his life had become.

The bells above the door jingled and a man in a paisley silk shirt of royal purple with a matching vest and top hat walked inside. 

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Oh God,” he mumbled under his breath. “I did not need this today.” 

He’d already seen too many ghosts from his past. First his ex-lover, now his ex-best friend? There was only so much a demon could take in one eon, let alone a week.  

He slammed back the rest of his drink and discreetly looked for an exit. But it was too late. He’d been seen.

The man raised a hand towards the bartender, who gave him a smile. 

“The usual, Jefferson?” 

The man nodded to the bartender, before taking a seat besides Rumplestiltskin and removing his hat. “Hello, Rumple. It’s been awhile.”

Rumplestiltskin fought back the urge to throw his glass at him. Instead, he motioned for the bartender to refill it when he brought Jefferson’s drink over. 

“If memory serves me correctly,  _ Jeff _ , you haven’t talked to me since The Fall. So forgive me for being blunt but...bugger off.” 

Jefferson only chuckled. “Oh, I’ve missed your sense of humor, Rumplestiltskin. Heaven hasn’t been half as much fun since you left. 

“Probably because no one can drink anymore,” Rumplestiltskin mumbled into his glass.

Jefferson’s face fell. “That was a rather unfortunate consequence. It’s put a bit of a damper on moral.”

“I’ll bet.” 

“Regardless, I didn’t come here to argue about Heaven’s dry policy. I’m here to give you some advice.”

“Is that allowed?” Rumplestiltskin asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

An infuriating smile was his only answer. He set down his drink with a loud clink against the bar. “Look, if you’re here to warn me off of Belle, you don’t need to worry. I’m ending things.”

Jefferson took a slow sip from his glass before he spoke. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“Surely you’re not here to encourage me?”

“You seem to have made up your mind anyway, so what’s the point of me giving my opinion?” 

Rumplestiltskin glared at him. “Jeff, your little mind tricks didn’t work on me before and they won’t work now.” 

Jefferson gestured for the bartender to refill his glass. “What tricks?” he asked innocently. 

Leaning forward until he was just inches away from him, Rumplestiltskin lowered his voice until it was almost a growl. “You can pretend all you want that this is some kind of friendly chat, but our friendship died the day I was thrown out of the only home I’d ever known. If you had really been my friend, you wouldn’t have let that happen.”

He’d meant to sound threatening, but his voice caught. Even after all these years, the wound had never truly healed.  

To his credit, Jefferson didn’t look away. He met Rumplestiltskin’s eyes calmly. “I will always be your friend, Rumplestiltskin. I can’t change the past, but perhaps I can help you with your present.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted, turning back to his drink. “What could you possibly know about my - ”

“Hell is under threat.” 

He froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “What?”

Jefferson sat in his seat looking completely relaxed, as if the fate of the Underworld didn’t impact the entire Universe. “Just thought you might want to know,” he said, knocking back the rest of his drink. 

“Wait, that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Rumplestiltskin leapt to his feet. “How is it under threat? Have I been gone too long? Did Archie accidentally let something across the border? Is it...” He stopped, unable to finish the question, fearful of what the answer would be. 

No, surely,  _ that  _ hadn’t happened. He and Belle cared for each other, but there was no way things could have gotten that far without him realizing it. Not that it was even possible for him, he reminded himself. 

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but perhaps you and your son should take a quick trip back home. Take your girlfriends along.” 

“Take our...what?” Rumplestiltskin thought his head might explode. “You want us to take living mortals to the Underworld? Do you know how expensive it was last time we allowed that?”

Jefferson grinned. “Yes. Dante loves to talk about it.” He threw a scarf around his neck, one that definitely hadn’t been there before. “If you have any problems, feel free to send any troublemakers my way.”

“Your way? I can’t even get into Heaven. How am I supposed to spend anyone your way?”

Jefferson shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I hear ring toss can be incredibly effective.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at him, wondering if he’d finally gone insane. 

As if reading his thoughts, Jefferson smiled knowingly. “By the way, Jesus said he’d be delighted to officiate any upcoming weddings. He’ll even give you the family deal: 2 for 1 water to wine discount.” 

Without another word, he tipped his hat at Rumplestiltskin and disappeared into thin air. Only his top hat remained, floating in the air for a moment before falling to land on top of his empty bar stool. 

“Damn him,” Rumplestiltskin growled. He thought about breaking his glass against the bar, but decided against it. He didn’t have time to deal with the commotion it would cause. Because apparently, he had a plan to trip. And two mortals to break the truth to. 

Looking back at the drinks, he sighed. He also had a bar tab to pay. 

God was such a cheapskate. 

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin headed back to the apartment, mind in a whirl. There was a lot to sort through, but very little time to do it in. 

As much as he would have loved to ignore Jefferson, he’d learned the hard way that taking God’s advice was usually best. If the Almighty himself wanted Rumplestiltskin to lug two mortals through the Underworld while a dangerous threat was lurking, there must be a reason. 

His son opened the door of the apartment this time. “Hey, pops. I didn’t realize you were coming over.” 

Both Emma and Belle came into the living room as they heard his voice. He grimaced at them both as he walked inside. 

“We have to tell them,” he said simply, not wanting to waste time on small talk. 

Baelfire frowned. “Tell them what?” 

Rumplestiltskin gave him a significant look and pointed down towards the floor.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Baelfire said, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“What are you two talking about?” Emma asked. “Leroy’s not walking around the first floor nude again, is he? The landlord told him he couldn’t do that anymore.” 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit bigger than that.” Rumplestiltskin leaned toward his son, meeting his eyes. “The Underworld is in danger,” he whispered. “Jefferson told me to get there right away and bring them along.” 

“Bring Emma and Belle?” Baelfire looked gobsmacked. “You have to be joking!” 

“I wish I were.” Rumplestiltskin withdrew the top hat from his pocket, using his magic to make it full size again. “He even left this.” 

Baelfire’s eyes grew wide. “He left his hat with you? But he’s never without a hat. He always has one, no matter where he’s popping off too.” His eyes lit up. “Do you think he’s trying to hide a bald spot?”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. They really didn’t have time for this. “The Almighty created the Universe out of nothingness, but yes, I’m sure he has male pattern baldness.” 

“Would one of you please tell us what’s happening?” Belle asked, interrupting. “You’re making me nervous.”

His son looked helplessly at him and Rumplestiltskin took pity on him, vanishing the top hat from view. 

He cleared his throat. “Belle, do you remember what I said when you asked me what I did for a living?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You said you were an undertaker. ”

“No, I said I worked with the dead.”

“Alright, so it’s a different way to say - ” 

“Belle,” he interrupted gently. “Undertakers work with the dead in this world. I work with the dead in the  _ next  _ world.” 

Emma and Belle stared at him, not comprehending.

He sighed. So much for subtly.

“I’m the motherfucking Devil, okay?” 

* * *

 

Belle wasn’t sure how she ended up on the floor. One moment she had been standing, listening to Nick proclaim the he was Satan, and the next, she had woken up on the floor, staring up at three worried faces.

“Wha-what happened?”

Neal glared at his father. “Pops was being theatrical.” 

Emma helped her stand up. Belle clung to her friend, who looked as stunned as she felt.

“So, it’s not true then?” she asked, wondering why she needed confirmation. Of course, Nick wasn’t the Devil. He clearly need vast amounts of psychotherapy, but fallen angels didn’t just walk around romancing librarians every day. 

Neal looked sheepish. “Well, no, it’s still true. But there’s ways to go about these things, you know?” 

Actually, Belle didn’t know. She hadn’t ever needed to tell anyone she was Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, before. 

“I think we all need to calm down,” Emma said slowly. “Why don’t we sit down, take a few deep breaths, maybe call a therapist - ” 

“I’m not crazy,” Nick said, exasperated. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. “We don’t have time for this. We’ll explain when we get there.” 

“Get where?” Belle asked. “I’m not going anywhere with - ”

Her sentence was cut off as the world whirled around her. She held on tight to Emma’s arm as she struggled to find her balance. 

As her feet hit solid ground again, she glanced around wildly. Her living room was long gone. Instead, they stood on the bank of a river, red clay earth under their feet, and a giant, black gated fortress in the distance that seemed to go on forever. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered, as soon as she caught her breath. 

“Holy Hell would be more accurate, but I’ll let it slide this time.” Nick gestured to the gates with a flourish. “Welcome to my kingdom, ladies.” 

Belle gazed open-mouthed at the structure. This was no trick or mirage. They were actually in Hell. Her boyfriend was actually the Devil. She felt sick and numb, all at the same time.  

Emma let go of Belle’s arm, stumbling forward eagerly. “So like, it’s all real? Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil, all of it?” 

Neal nodded. “There’s truth in a lot of religions, but most of the details have gotten confused over time. Take Jesus, for example. He - ”

“Wait a second,” Emma said. “You - the Devil’s son - are friends with Jesus?”

“Of course! Just because our dads don’t get along, doesn’t mean we can’t.”

Emma looked him up and down appraisingly. “And I’m supposed to believe that you’re thousands of years old?”

Neal cracked a sly grin. “Remember when you said you’d never seen moves like mine in bed? You weren't wrong. Some of those were outlawed in the 15 th century.”

“Baelfire, this is not the time,” Nick hissed. 

Emma nodded slowly. “Well, now the name is starting to make sense.” Her eyes grew big a moment later. “Oh, I get it now! Nick as in “Old Nick”...that’s really clever!” 

It was too much for Belle. “Can you stop calling my lying, evil boyfriend clever?” she snapped. 

Nick had been ignoring her for the most part until now, but he turned to look at her. “I thought you said we weren’t dating?” he asked, smoothly.

Belle crossed her arms and glared at him. “Well, if we were, we definitely aren’t now!” 

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but instead he turned his back on her and began walking towards the river. 

It was just as well, Belle thought. She wasn’t sure how much more stress her mind could take right now. Finding out that her not-quite-boyfriend was Evil Incarnate moments before being magically transported to the Underworld was a lot to process all at once. 

Honestly, couldn’t he have convinced her he was telling the truth some other way? All he’d have needed to do was grow some horns and a tail, perhaps thrown in a fiery pitchfork, and she’d have believed him. There was no reason he had to literally drag them all down to Hell. 

At least one thing hadn’t changed in the last few minutes. Nick was still a drama queen. 

As she approached the bank, she realized Nick was flagging down a small boat. On board was the largest man she had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” she asked, worriedly. 

“Oh, that’s just Anton,” Neal said. “He ferries dead souls across the river to Hell. Real nice guy.” 

“Well, that’s certainly reassuring,” Belle lied. She grabbed hold of Emma, who had been leaning closer to the river for a better look. “We need to get out of here,” she hissed.

“No one is going anywhere until we save the Underworld,” Nick said, walking back towards them from the water’s edge. 

Belle’s head whipped toward him. How had he heard her from that far away? 

“Look, I know you don’t want to be here,” he said, not meeting Belle’s eyes. “But I was told to bring you along, so it must be important that you’re here. We need to rescue the Underworld from whatever is threatening it. God wouldn’t have warned me if it wasn’t a dire situation.” He pulled a top hat out of thin air, causing Belle and Emma to gasp. “I just wish I knew why he left this behind.”

Neal shrugged. “He must want you to do something with it.”

“Like what? Pull a rabbit out of it?” 

“What if it’s like the killer rabbit from the end of Monty Python and the Holy Grail?” Neal asked with a grin. “Or better yet, a holy hand grenade!” 

“Isn’t there some kind of flaming sword that God used to smite the wicked?” Emma asked, getting excited. “Maybe you’re supposed to pull a sword out of the hat like in Harry Potter!” 

Nick glared at her. “Do I  _ look  _ like a Gryffindor to you?”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Belle shouted. “This is all ridiculous and I refuse to be involved.” She plopped down on the ground and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not moving from this spot until you take us home.” 

She saw Emma roll her eyes at her, but she didn’t care. Emma always liked running head first into danger; it’s why she chased down criminals for a living. 

But Belle was a librarian, damn it! The most adventurous thing she did was read until one o’clock in the morning, provided it wasn’t a week night, of course. 

True, she had apparently been having an affair with the Devil, but she’d thought he was an undertaker. How much more boring could you get than that? 

Nick exchanged a look with the other two. “Would you give us a minute? Tell Anton that we’ll be along shortly.” 

Emma and Neal nodded and began to walk towards the edge of the river.

Nick bent down beside her. “I’m sorry, Belle.” 

His eyes looked remorseful, but that too could be a trick of his. How could she trust anything about him after this? 

She laughed hollowly. “About which part? Lying to me about who you were? Kidnapping me and my roommate?” 

He sighed. “All of it, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. “Look Belle, I never meant you to get entangled in any of this. It’s why I left London before things got any more serious - ”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” he asked, stiffening. 

“Bullshit. You left because you were scared of committing. You can dress it up with all this other stuff, but you ran because you were afraid.” 

She looked away, not wanting to look at the man she had started to envision a future with again. She’d begun to hope it would be different this time, that perhaps he might actually love - 

So stupid, she thought to herself. How could she have let herself be fooled again? 

“Let’s face it, Nick. You would have run away eventually, work emergency or no.”

He was quiet for a moment, taking in her words. “You’re probably right,” he said with a sigh. “I guess this...all worked out for the best then.” He stood, offering her a hand. “I’ll take you home as soon as this is over. But I’m going to need your help one more time. Even though we both know I don’t deserve it.” 

She glanced up at him, seeing the regret in his eyes. 

Good, she thought. He should have to suffer, too. 

Taking his hand, she stood up, and quietly followed him down to the river. Anton had docked the boat against the shore and the four of them climbed aboard. 

“Take us home,” Nick said, his lips twisted in a grimace. “There’s Hell to pay.” 


	8. Chapter 8

The throne room was still in one piece as they walked inside. Rumplestiltskin had been sure that there would have been signs of damage or attack within his kingdom, but so far everything had looked exactly as he had left it.

That is, everything looked the same except for the red-headed fool lounging upon Rumplestiltskin’s throne.

“Archie?” he asked in disbelief.

His assistant sat up with a start, but quickly relaxed again as he took them in.

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” he said with a lazy drawl. “Boss.”

Gone was the timid man that had cowered before him for decades. In his place was a confident, smug, arrogant son-of-a-bitch that Rumpelstiltskin was going to enjoy burning to a fine crisp.

Beside him, he heard Belle gasp. He turned to see her and Emma looking at Archie in shock.

“I don’t understand,” Belle said, her eyes large in her pale face. “Dr. Hopper?”

Archie grinned, waving his fingers at them in greeting. “Hello, ladies. Nice to see you again. I’m afraid I have to cancel our next appointments. I just secured a rather nice promotion, as you can see.”

“What in the hell is he talking about?” Rumplestiltskin growled.

“That’s my therapist,” Belle said, her voice faint. “And Emma’s.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this ridiculousness. Time for you to get out of my chair.”

He raised his arm to summon a fireball. A small fire started in his hand before fizzling and dying out a second later.

“What in the - ”

Archie grinned. “I had to wait for you to come back for the transfer of power, but as you can see - ” he held his own hand up, a blazing ball of fire held within his palm - “your power is mine now.”

“What is this clown talking about?” Baelfire asked, his bravo misplaced in the gravity of the moment. “Pops, smite his ass.”

“I can’t. He’s telling the truth. My magic is gone.”

Baelfire looked at him in shock. “But how?”

“You never were very good at reading the fine print, were you?” Archie said, standing up from the throne and descending the steps towards them. “There are rules that govern the Underworld, just like anywhere else. Those rules apply to everyone, including the person that sits on the throne.”

A sinking feeling began in the pit of Rumplestiltskin’s stomach. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Archie was going with this lecture.

“Is he a lawyer?” Emma whispered. “I’ve always hated lawyers.”

Archie shot her a dirty look for interrupting, but continued his explanation. “God created these rules when he brought Hell into being. They’ve been around as long as you have ruled here.” He strode purposely toward Rumplestiltskin, stopping mere inches from him. “You brought this upon yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart began to beat furiously in his chest, but he kept his face calm. Despite knowing that Archie spoke the truth and what that meant for all of them, he refused to show weakness in front of his enemy.

“Oh, but you couldn’t help but push me right into it, didn’t you?” he snarled. “Telling me Baelfire was falling in love with a mortal that you no doubt introduced him to.”

Archie shrugged. “I might have given a little nudge.”

Baelfire let out a loud groan. “I was wondering about that no darkness thing! Don’t get me wrong, Emma is a way better person than I am, but she is not without darkness, if you know what I mean...”

Emma punched him in the arm. “Here? Really?”

Rumplestiltskin ignored them. Everything was slowly falling into place as he realized just how long his assistant had been playing them. “You’ve been planning this for years, haven’t you? That’s why you wanted me to go to London, and why you’ve been posing as Belle and Emma’s therapist.”

Archie grinned. “Guilty as charged. Not to brag, but finding Belle out of 7 billion humans was no easy task. I thought Hell would freeze over before I found a woman who could put up with the likes of you.” His smile fell and he glared at Rumplestiltskin. “Then you had to go and botch things up in London and I had to start all over again!” He gestured dismissively at Emma. “I knew the only way you’d come back is if I found someone for Baelfire and made sure she and Belle became close.”

Emma gasped. “That’s why you let me hang my ad for a roommate outside of your office! You knew Belle would see it when she had an appointment.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know whether to feel used or impressed. Most of the crooks I chase down couldn’t pull off something half this detailed.”

Rumplestiltskin felt a headache forming. Everything from his “accidental” meeting with Belle to their eventual reunion had been carefully orchestrated by Archie. Even Baelfire had gotten dragged into the plan in order to throw him and Belle back together.

And yet, he couldn’t be completely angry, because without Archie’s interference, he’d have never met Belle at all. The very thought made his heart beat painfully in his chest.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to fully examine what all of this meant for his future right now. Ensuring that the four of them survived this trip was a slightly higher priority at the moment.

“How’d you find us?” Emma asked Archie curiously. “Because if there’s a magic cupid’s arrow that can find the person you’re seeking, I’d love to borrow it for my job.”

“Pretty sure he used the Orbuculum,” Baelfire said, cutting off Archie who had opened his mouth to speak. “It’s this giant crystal that lets you peer into the mortal world.”

Emma perked up. “Is it portable?”

Seeing that the conversation was getting away from him again, Archie cleared his throat. “Regardless of how, the point is that it _did_ happen.” He grinned at Rumplestiltskin. “And as a result, you are no longer fit to rule Hell.”

“Why not?”

Everyone’s heads turned towards Belle, who had been silent until now.

“He’s a lying, manipulative con-artist,” she explained. “Why wouldn’t he be perfect for the job?”

Archie looked back and forth between Rumplestiltskin and Belle, his face breaking into a huge grin. “You haven’t told her? Oh, this is just too precious!”

“Tell me what?” Belle demanded.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. They were all going to die anyway, what did it matter if he lost his pride as well as his life?

“That thing you said I was afraid of? Looks like I did it without realizing it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“Anyone want to fill us in on the secret?” Baelfire asked testily.

“Your father and Belle are in love. You and Emma are in love. Everyone here has found True Love and thus, does not have a heart dark enough to rule the Underworld.” Archie finished his pronouncement with a little flourish of his hands. “Page 394, paragraph 13.”

Belle turned to Rumplestiltskin. “We have True Love?”

The look of wonder on her face was enough to make him forget everything for a moment.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said gently. “We do.”   

Just over Belle’s shoulder, he could see Baelfire looking shocked and Emma getting teary-eyed.

Archie cleared his throat again. “Sorry to break up your little love fest, but I _am_ about to kill you, so you really should be looking a bit more afraid right now.”

He snapped his fingers and a long red velvet cape appeared on his shoulders. With another snap, a glowing red pitchfork appeared in his hand.

Archie chuckled. “It seemed thematically appropriate.”

Rumplestiltskin growled under his breath. The idiot looked ridiculous. There was no way Rumplestiltskin was going to allow a cape-wearing, pitchfork-wielding traitor murder him and his family.

The only way the prick could look stupider is if he had a crown...

He let out a soft gasp. Jefferson had left him a hat. And hadn’t he said something about ring toss?

Archie noticed his expression. “It’s no use trying to plot your way out of this one. I control the power of the Underworld, and you are nothing but an insignificant mortal, powerless to stop me.”

“You’re right. The throne is yours.” Rumplestiltskin said, spreading his arms in defeat. What did he have to lose? “I guess you’ll be needing a crown then.”

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled the top hat out of his pocket and threw it towards Archie’s head. Though his own power was gone, the hat retained its own inherent magic, growing bigger as it spun through the air, landing directly on top of its target’s head.

Archie had just enough time to look surprised before he was sucked into the hat’s portal, vanishing completely from the room.

The top hat floated down to the floor, settling onto the ground innocently.

“Oh my God!” Emma yelled.

Rumplestiltskin walked over to the hat, picking it up carefully. “You are correct, my dear.”

“It was a portal!” Baelfire shouted. “Of course, it’s a portal! God’s been using his hats to teleport across the Universe and we had no idea.” He paused. “Wait, that means he totally could have given me a lift home after confirmation classes.”

Before Rumplestiltskin could even think of how to reply, Belle rushed into his arms. She still seemed shaken, but her bright blue eyes were triumphant.

“You did it! You defeated him.” She looked at him awestruck.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I had a little help from the Big Man Upstairs.”

She shook her head, clearly still processing it all. “So, what does this mean?” She gestured to the throne. “Are you going to go back to...work?”

He gave a small smile. “Archie was right. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Her eyes were hopeful as she asked, “So, do you want to?”

He tilted her face up to meet his, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “No, it turns out I have a prior commitment that will be taking up the next fifty years or so.”

Belle’s smile lit up her whole face. “I’m glad to hear it.” Her face clouded over a moment later and she bit her lip. “I just realized that I don’t even know your real name.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. Hadn’t he suffered enough for one day?

“Nick is fine,” he said hastily. “Why don’t we just stick with that?”

She stared him down. “No more lies, okay?”

He groaned. That was going to be incredibly hard to do. Maybe he should rethink his options. Anton could probably use a first mate on board the ferry, after all.

“It’s Rumplestiltskin,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s Rumplestiltskin.”   
  
Belle burst into laughter. “Like the fairy tale character? You can’t be serious.”

“Of all the things that have happened today, that’s where you draw the line?” He shook his head. “Mortals. Unbelievable.”

She gave him a friendly nudge. “You’re one of us now, like it or not.”

He shivered. “That’s definitely a ‘not’.”

Still, the prospect of a life spent on Earth was infinitely more pleasant than it had been a few weeks ago. His family had doubled in size in just that short amount of time. Who was to say it might not expand more one day?

But there was plenty of time to figure that out. Right now he just wanted to sit and not think for at least a week.

“Let’s go home,” he said finally.

Baelfire let out a relieved sigh. “I’m all for that, but what are we going to do about this place? It still needs someone to run it.”

The beginning of an idea started to take root in Rumplestiltskin’s brain. “I think I know just the person.”

 


	9. Epilogue

 It was tea time in Heaven. As time didn’t actually move there, it was tea time rather often.

At Rumplestiltskin’s suggestion, Fiona had been made interim ruler of the Underworld. She’d been on a probationary period at first, but now that her first few months were over, she was ready to start making some changes.

She and St. Peter were in Jefferson’s office, animatedly discussing Fiona’s designs for a new color scheme.

“Red is just too outdated,” Fiona explained. “It’s what everyone expects, right? We need to mix things up. I was thinking…” She paused, frowning. “Your Highness, are you even listening?”

Jefferson’s eyes were squeezed shut in concentration. He couldn’t be distracted now or he’d make an error. “Just a second. I’m almost done.”

* * *

 

Across the universe, in a little town called Storybrooke, four humans were unpacking Rumplestiltskin’s boxes into his new house.

His mother had been kind enough to ship a bunch of his things directly from Hell, but without magic, it was still a good amount of work for four people.

Belle dropped one of the boxes down on the kitchen table with a groan. “I can’t believe you have this much stuff!”

He chuckled. “Well, you do tend to accumulate a few things over the centuries.”

He had bought one of the largest houses in town, a salmon-colored Victorian that towered above the other houses on the street imposingly.

He thought it suited him perfectly.

It had taken him a while to settle into the rhythm of human life, but the others had been patient with him, and had helped the transition go smoothly. Belle and he had been dating for several months now and Baelfire and Emma had gotten engaged just a few weeks before.

All in all, things were going almost alarmingly well.

Baelfire set a large crate down on the ground and Belle peered into it suspiciously.

“The Ark of the Covenant isn’t in here, right?” she asked.

He laughed. “Of course not.” He waited until Belle left the room to shoot his son a sly glance. “That’s in storage.”

Baelfire chuckled before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his phone, which had just beeped. He read the message and shouted for Emma who was in the living room unpacking Rumplestiltskin’s bone china.

“What is it?” she asked, walking into the room.

“God wants to know if he can come to the wedding.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide and she laughed nervously. “I mean, we can hardly say no, right?” She shot Rumplestiltskin a pleading look. “Can we say no? I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to my parents. They’re atheists!”

Baelfire waved it off. “It’ll be fine. He’ll come incognito. No one will recognize him, apart from the ostentatious hat.” He began texting a reply. “I’m going to tell him to bring Jesus along. The guy’s a blast at parties. He can do the neatest party trick with water.”

Rumplestiltskin sniffed. Jesus was a good kid, but his red blend was terrible.

As Baelfire and Emma continued to argue about adding the Trinity to the guest list - God help them if the Holy Spirit actually showed up - Belle walked over to him, threading her arms around his neck.

She was biting her lip, a habit he knew she had when she was nervous.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he asked.

“It’s just...all this wedding talk has got me thinking.” She was looking at him very seriously from under her long lashes. “I know we’re True Love and that’s not something we should take lightly, but…” She trailed off, looking worried.  

“What is it?” he asked, anxiously. Had she changed her mind about them already? They’d only been dating for a few months now. Was he doomed to walk this planet alone for the rest of his mortal days, even more miserable than he had been sitting on his lonely throne?

He cursed the heart in his chest that beat painfully against his ribcage.

She let out a deep breath. “I know it isn’t terribly romantic, but would you mind just living together for now?”

His heart stopped racing and his breathing returned to normal.

“Live in sin?” A wicked grin spread across his face. “I think I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! I hope you all enjoyed this little story. It's not perfect, but I'm really rather proud of it. Let me know if you enjoyed it!
> 
> This story was part of the 2019 Rumbelle Big Bang and bisexualbelle made an AMAZING gifset for this story here: https://bisexualbelle.tumblr.com/post/183474540706/a-mid-life-crisis-can-be-hell-especially-if
> 
> Also, big thanks to B_does_the_write_thing for being an excellent beta! She helped me refine several important parts of the story and was a great cheerleader, as always!


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